


Hard Limits

by evieplease



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Ellie has serious crap in her past, F/M, James didn't tell Ellie that he has a wife, Past Rape/Non-con, Tom rescues Ellie, With James
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 151,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: Elena finally figures out her mistake. Tom helps her move on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece with BDSM themes and D/s relationships. There’s sex, violence, dub con. If you aren’t up for it, don’t read! As always, I’d like to hear your comments.

I climb out of the cab, trying to maintain a little grace about it, pulling the heavy silver silk brocade wrap around my shoulders against the mild chill. Naturally, my skirt rucks up a bit more than it should as I slide out of the seat, and I stumble a bit on my unfamiliar new skyscraper heels. I hadn’t taken into account how wobbly they would make me when I bought them this afternoon. All I saw was how they make my legs look three feet longer, and slender, showing off the new definition of calf muscle there. I pause a moment to regain my balance, and clutch at my disappearing equilibrium.

I spent the last 2 hours getting ready for this evening, shaving and plucking, buffing and brushing. My new body lotion has a heavenly scent, like orange blossoms, and makes my skin feel like I’m glowing. 

The face that had looked back at me from my vanity mirror was almost too pale, my nerves and excitement showing clearly in my pallor and the trembling of the lips that he once called ‘bee stung’. Just a light dusting of powder to cover the freckles, and a hint of blush to emphasize my newly apparent cheekbones, and a swipe of tinted lip gloss saved me from looking like a vampire victim. 

I’d carefully followed the instructions from the you-tube video, and after some trial and error, managed a credible smokey grey shadow that made my eyes look almost too large for my face. I’d even spent the time to iron out my wild curls, managing something like a smooth sweep. I looked good, maybe even beautiful in certain lights. If you squint. Hard.

I carefully moved on my tottering heels toward the entrance of the beautiful restaurant where he’d told me to meet him. I’m early, and I don’t want to arrive first, don’t want to be sitting waiting for him, as I often do. I dither briefly in front of the artfully vine draped front window, looking into the low lit cozy dining room, checking the white clothed tables for his tall presence. 

Not here yet. I turn and walk to the end of the block and cross the road, killing time, and practicing walking in these killer heels. I stroll up the block towards the High Street, looking into the shop front windows.

He’s really going to ask me, I think. These last few months with James have been magical, more powerful, more sexy, better than anything I could have hoped for. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone like him, but I must have been a goddamn saint in a former life, and this lifetime I get to spend as a sinner to make up for it. 

I repress a snicker. I’m still astounded every day that he apparently wants me, can’t get enough of me. He travels a lot with his job, but when he’s with me he makes me feel like the center of his universe, keeping me in bed, or in the shower, or on my sofa, or (christ!) the kitchen counter for hours. Positively priapic, he is. I sigh. He’s so beautiful, tall and slim, broad shouldered, fit, piercing blue eyes, brushed back hair, beard stubble, devastating smile, and I get wet just thinking about him. But I’m not telling him that, this time.

I stop in front of a shop window when my reflection catches my eye. I smooth the new tight fitting ice blue satin dress down, wishing my hips were smaller, but grateful that the fine grey basque undergarment has at least temporally smoothed out the admittedly much smaller rolls of my belly. After the last year of strenuous dieting and exercise, lots and lots of exercise, my figure is finally approaching something approximating hour-glass. 

After my injury two years ago, I’d been unable to move around much, and had put on all kinds of weight. It took a fuck-ton of courage, and work to even start whittling away at it. The difference is that, before my injury, I hadn’t had to think much about calories and exercise to maintain a fit body. Now I do. My day job isn’t enough any longer to do it. Although, I sure would like someone to explain how it is that it takes longer to lose it than to gain it! Mostly so I can punch them.

I eye myself in the window reflection. The dress really is stunning, it makes me look good, and with the shoes making me almost tall… for once I think I won’t feel like a sturdy, round beach ball standing next to him. I smooth my hair, glad I’d done the blonde wave down around my shoulders. I grin at my reflection. Very Lauren Bacall.

I glance at the time on my phone. He should be here soon. Taking one last look in the glass reflection to check for bits in my teeth or bogeys on my nose, I meet the interested blue gaze of a familiar stranger. I don’t know where I’ve seen him before, but I’ve got things on my mind and no time or interest to bother with a puzzle now. I nod at him politely, and turn away, starting my short trek back to the restaurant. 

Glancing up, I see my beautiful man, my James, loping down the sidewalk and ducking into the restaurant, he’s gone inside too quickly to hail him, so I continue on my own. Arriving in front of the door, I stop to take a breath and gather my wits. This is what he does to me, makes me witless. My breath shakes out of me. 

I reach one more time into my clutch for my compact to check my make up, and apply a fresh layer of gloss. My hands are shaking, and I fumble the gloss as I go to replace it in my bag. It falls to the ground and I watch helplessly as it rolls toward the street. Trying to catch it on these heels will undoubtedly land me on my well padded ass.

Suddenly a voice says “Let me get that, darling!” and a tall figure stoops down and scoops my gloss up. He smiles kindly down at me, the oddly familiar stranger from the shop, and gently hands me my errant gloss, his hand covering mine to ensure that I don’t drop it again. I swallow hard, the butterflies in my tum creating a havoc that has nothing to do with the man in front of me.

“Nervous?” he asks gently. I nod helplessly, ridiculously. Why is this man even bothering with me? 

“I think…” my voice comes out breathless, “I think he’s going to ask me…” Why am I telling him this? The man smiles down at me benevolently.

“And are you going to say Yes,” he asks me kindly. All the spit has dried in my mouth, and I know my eyes are stretched too wide as I stare back at this nice man. I can’t even answer this stranger, what makes me think that I’ll be able to answer James? Oh god, I’m going to make a fool of myself…

“Courage, darling! That is a charming frock, and you look ravishing. He’d be a fool to miss the opportunity to have you on his arm permanently!” he says with an encouraging smile. He reaches a long arm around me to the door and pulls it open, holding it for me. 

“After you.” 

I look up into his smile as I hesitate.“I’ll bet you were the kid who pushed the other kids into the pool when they hesitated, weren’t you?” I ask accusingly.

“Got it in one, darling!’ he laughed.

He ushers me into the restaurant with a gentlemanly hand in the small of my back, up to the Maitre’D.

"Good evening Mr. Hiddleston. Table for two?” The Maitre’D raises his eyebrows in an unctuous manner.

That’s it! That’s why I recognize him. I’ve seen him on the telly -now what was it? I wrack my brain. Oh, yes! It was 'The Hollow Crown’, and something else… 

He smiles at the Maitre’D. “No, we’re not here together.” he smiles down at me. “More’s the pity. The lady is meant for someone far luckier than I…” He hams a forlorn look, and batts his eyelashes at me. 

I feel a little pink steal across my cheeks, twitch a smile back, and supply the Maitre’D with James’ name.

“Ah. If Madame will follow me?” The Maitre’D is holding a menu and looking at me expectantly. 

I take a deep breath. Before following him into the dining room, I lightly bump my shoulder into Tom. “Thanks.” I say, quietly. “…And you were gorgeous in Henry V.”

He winks at me, and ticks his chin up encouragingly, as I take another fortifying breath and turn away.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The Maitre’D led me into a small dining room, a large gilt mirror on one wall, 5 or 6 tables covered in pristine white and sparkling crystal, glowing candles, lovely and elegant, the lighting low and intimate. 

 Only three of the tables were occupied, and there was my man, in his gorgeous silver-grey suit. My heart thumped loud, and my stomach swooped as it always did on catching sight of him. I know there was a big loony grin on my face, and I wanted to skip. As always.

Fortunately I restrained myself, the killer heels would have lived up to their name for sure. He stood as I arrived at the table and kissed my cheek. This was new. I suppose it was the elegant surroundings. It would hardly have done for him to give me his usual greeting, growling at me in that incredible sexy voice to get down on my knees… I blushed, thinking of it.

It was only then that I noticed the tall, handsome older gentleman with beautiful white hair and an exquisitely tailored navy 3 piece suit standing also at the table.

“Elena, I want you to meet William. William, this is my pet, Elena."

Wait. What? I threw James a look in confusion. What an odd way of introducing me. But, then, he’d never introduced me to any of his friends before tonight. William (no last name) was taking my hand and kissing my cheek. I heard him inhale deeply, as if testing my scent. For a strange moment they both just stood there looking me up and down. I felt oddly as if I were being examined for flaws.

“Lovely.” William said as he let go my hand. I smiled politely at him, but he had been speaking to James, who smiled fondly down at me. James pulled out my chair and settled me into it, then re-took his seat next to me, William across the table. 

I was uncomfortable. And desperately disappointed. I hope it doesn’t show on my face. I had thought that this evening would be just the two of us, but this man appeared to be settled in for the duration. I shrugged off my wrap, and pulled my serviette nervously into my lap, as the two of them stared at me.

 James poured me a glass of wine, which I’d rather not have. The damn stuff was red, and I was wearing pale blue. I knew that at some point tonight I’d be wearing some quantity of the horrid stuff. I’m that clumsy, and more so when I’m nervous. And the stranger across from me was making me very nervous. I didn’t understand why he was here, or why he was looking at me as if deciding at which end to start. I reached for my water glass instead, intending to moisten my suddenly dry mouth.

“Not the water, pet. The wine.” James directed me in that voice. The voice that brooked no argument. My hand automatically went to the wineglass and I took it up, glancing up at the two of them, who were watching me rather intently. James nodded at my glass and I took a sip, restraining my natural grimace at the bitter taste. I hate red wine, and James knows it. James nodded at me approvingly, and my stomach swooped again. Apparently I’d managed to do exactly as he wanted, and I smiled back at him in relief.

“Lovely.” William said again to James. I wanted to set the vile stuff down, but I had the feeling I needed to be given permission. Both James and William raised their glasses.

“Here’s to playing with new friends.” James toasted. What? Well, that was unexpected. James is always so controlled, and so controlling, I can’t imagine him ‘playing’. I’m sure my confusion must have shown on my face, but I gamely took a sip.

“She’s just exquisite, James.” William murmured, as if I were some piece of art come to life. 'She’ is sitting right here, you ass, I thought, but I didn’t say it of course. It wouldn’t do to embarrass James in front of his friend, and calling his friend out on his appalling manners would certainly qualify. William still hadn’t directly addressed me. This man was beginning to seriously creep me out.

“Yes, she is. I’m quite proud of her.” James returned. Et tu, James? He’s proud of me?? I colored again at the way my heart leapt at his praise.

“Thank you, James.” I murmured. He always expected me to thank him when he complimented me. His eyes flicked toward me, a momentary crease between his eyebrows. Had my response displeased him in some way? Oh. I had called him James, rather than 'Sir’. But, in public? Not that we had ever spent much time in public together. The men took up their conversation again, while I mulled over my faux pas. Will it be corrected if I call him 'Sir’ for the rest of the evening? Or will my poor bottom pay for my transgression later? A spanking for fun from James was a thing of beauty, and always ended well for both of us. But his 'punishment’ spankings were to be avoided at all costs. I shivered. 

The waiter came by to refill the men’s wineglasses and take their orders. I waited with patient interest to see what James would order for my dinner.

“She will have the Dover Sole with the grilled asparagus…” Yum. “And the mushroom risotto to start.”

I made a movement of negation before I could stop myself, and sat back blushing as James’ head whipped around, staring at me in displeasure.

“What?” he snapped. I wanted to sink through the floor.

“I… I’m sorry, Sir. I … don’t really like mushrooms.” I said hesitantly.James turned smoothly back to the waiter.

“Thank you, that will be all.” he said in that voice, and the waiter departed with alacrity. I sat miserably, trying not to cry at disappointing James, blinking away tears. How could I have disputed with him, in front of his friend, no less? Oh, I’m in for it now… 

James and William went back to their conversation, something about an investment scandal in the city. After a moment James idly picked up my wine glass and handed it to me. I sat there holding the vile glassful. James interrupted his conversation.

“Something wrong with the wine, my pet?” he enquired slightly dangerously as if daring me to assert my dislike once again.

“Um, no Sir. I’m sure it’s lovely…” hoping he wouldn’t make me drink the nasty stuff. No such luck. I’d apparently reached the limit of his forbearance.

“Then drink up, there’s a good pet.” he said, and returned his attention to William. Oh, gak. I sighed quietly. Oh well, nothing for it. I took a small sip. Oh, it’s just as awful as I thought it was the first time! I glanced at my water glass, wanting nothing more than to take a greedy gulp to wash the foul taste out of my mouth. Instead, I pulled up my big-girl panties and I took a bigger mouthful this time, hoping to get rid of the stuff faster. I glanced up to find William gazing at me in amusement. There was something cruel in his enjoyment of my discomfort. 

I defiantly took another drink, trying to keep my distaste out of my expression. What is this? Did someone declare 'Let’s make Ellie taste crap she hates and watch her squirm in public’- day? Clearly the evening wasn’t going in the direction I had anticipated. I swallowed my bitter disappointment along with my bitter wine. Not that James ever did the expected thing. Except for spankings. He was depressingly consistent with those…

I looked pleadingly at James. I’d managed to drink more than half the glass, perhaps he’d take pity and let me off the hook now that he’d proved his point. He looked impassively back at me, and I knew he wasn’t going to give me any quarter. I took another sip as he watched, holding his gaze. He nodded slightly, and turned back to his friend. I stared at my wineglass, determined to get through it and hope for the best.

I heard James ask William “So, what do you think? Will she do?”

Will who do what? I’d clearly missed out on the conversational thread…William answered in his smooth, posh voice.

“Oh yes, James, I think she’ll do very well. I quite enjoy that little spark of fire in her eyes.”

My eyes snapped up to his, a small frown on my face. What’s going on here? I turned to James to ask, but he was already answering William.

“Then I think we’ll all go to my place in the city after, if you like. I’ve a much better set-up there for what I have planned.”

What he has planned?? What plan? What set-up? My mouth dropped open. He has a place here in town?? I thought his place was up in the north country somewhere with the Horse and Hound set.

It’s all becoming clear at last. Oh, god, no. He’d once mentioned wanting to have a threesome, but this?? Oh, no, no, no! I’m panicking on the inside. He expects me to-? I gulped down the rest of my wine heedlessly. He wants to share me with this stranger. The thought crashes down on me, and I look up. They’re both sitting there, calmly discussing their plans for having me together. My hands begin to shake, and I set my wine glass down.

The waiter appears and sets down a plate of mushroom risotto in front of me with a flourish. My mind is in such a whirl as I sit staring at the disgusting fungi mixed into the risotto. Now I get it. Tonight was about 'stretching my boundaries’ as James once said to me. He’s making me do things that I’m reluctant to do. Things that he knows I don’t want. Drink red wine. Eat mushrooms. Perform for the both of them. Fuck another man. I writhe and wither inside. I can’t do this. I want to calmly stand, gather my things, and say “Good Evening, Gentlemen.” with assurance and aplomb, and walk away from this… this insanity. Well, really, I want to run screaming…

I’m watching James out of the corner of my eye. I know. I know that if I leave it will be all over with James. He will never forgive me for disrupting his plans, for disobeying him. Stupid, stupid girl. Did I think that being his submissive was just a game?! He’s told me plainly that he took being my Dom very seriously. God. I feel the tears prick the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to do this, but I’m very much afraid that I’m going to do it anyway, because I can’t lose him. I can’t . But then…

“And where is your lovely wife tonight, James?” William asks.

Wait. Wife?? What?! My head whips up to James, the blood leaving my head so fast it spins.

“Paris?” He mused. “Or possibly Milan tonight. Shopping on the continent anyway. I don’t try to keep up.” James gives a negligent shrug of his silver coated shoulders.

I’m going to be sick. I feel the bile beginning to crawl up my throat. I’m going to vomit all over this elegant table… I sway in my seat. Maybe I’ll just pass out instead. I’ll wake up and it will have all been just a horrible, horrible nightmare, the whole evening from start to finish. Please, god. I’m staring at James, watching the two of them discuss their wives.

“You… you have a wife, James?” I somehow interrupt to ask the question quietly, stifling the scream of pain that wanted to leap out of me. Grasping at any straw, maybe I’d misunderstood-? But no. 

James leans back in his chair in that arrogant, I-own-the-world way that I’d always found so sexy -until now-, arching his brow, his displeasure at being interrupted and questioned evident. 

“I don’t know what business it is of yours, pet,” he says coldly, “but yes, I do.” He flicked a glance at William before continuing.

“Now is not the time, nor the place, Elena…” he said warningly.

Did he really just confirm a wife he’s never told me about in 6 months and then tell me that she wasn’t any of my business??

Yes. He did. William began to laugh cruelly.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

I had thought, somehow, that when James said cruel things to me, or when he called me ‘pet ’ in that tone of voice that he was being sexy and Dom-ish, (and it was sort of sweet).  But now I’m hearing his voice, so clear and cold and precise, and see his searing eyes glaring at me, and I realise at last; he really means it.  

He has always meant it.  When he had narrowed his eyes, and his lips had thinned, when he had sneered and called me his slut, his dirty little whore, while balls deep in me, he had really meant it.  When he called me 'pet ’, that’s exactly what I was to him.  Nothing more.

The last of the oxygen evaporated from my lungs and I can’t feel my body.  I am utterly shocked, shattered, at how blindly I had let him manipulate me, own me, control me, degrade me.  I had wanted to give those things to him, be those things for him, but I had believed, I had trusted that he…he respected me, valued my gift.  That despite calling me those awful names, that he had respected me.  

Now I feel the truth in those words, filthy, dirty.  Fucktoy.  Not worthy.  A wail of loss and grief wants to rise within me, but I throttle it down.

My body begins to move before my brain clicks back online.  I find am watching myself (weirdly), calmly pushing my chair back, setting my serviette on the table, and standing. Looking at him, and seeing him for the first time.  He looks slightly surprised.  That I am actually capable of independent action?  That his little fucktoy has had enough?

I reach for my clutch sitting neatly beside my plate, and gather my wrap from the back of my chair, as I watch him, the way one watches a coiled snake.  I am so detatched from my body right now.  Detached from the screaming part of my mind.  The sobbing part of my mind.  But not the angry part.  Oh, no, that part is front and centre, at last.  Not fire, but ice.

James leans back in his chair, crosses his ankle over his knee and raises an eyebrow.

“Where do you think you’re going, my pet?”

I wonder vaguely if, deep down, the man doesn’t think he’s fucking James Bond.  An odd urge to giggle wells up in me, but then my heart clenches.  He is so fucking beautiful, exuding that dark smoldering sensuality of his.  I pause briefly, sorting through all the words swarming behind my teeth.

“James,’ I whisper, "you are a liar and a thief.  You should be ashamed of yourself.  All this time I thought I was giving myself to you, a gift freely and lovingly given.  But you stole me from me, and you’ve broken…everything.”  I feel my face harden, my voice harden, my heart harden.

“Don’t…don’t come near me again.”

I pick up the detested plate of mushroom risoto and toss the contents on his lap, turn calmly and (somehow) walk away, away from him.  Away from everything. William’s cold, cruel laughter rings out once again, over James’ swearing. I manage about 10 steps before my ankle begins to wobble on those damn skyscraper fuck-me (oh, god) heels.  

Or is it my whole body beginning to shake, adrenaline racing through me?  My hand reaches out blindly and clutches the empty chair at the table in front of me, occupied by a lone man, barely registering.  My eyes flicker to him in a cold, congealed recognition, and I find myself staring blankly into his eyes.  I don’t even see his face, really, just his wide blue gaze. 

 I lift my eyes above him and catch sight of myself in the gilt mirror behind his head.  I hardly recognise myself, my face leeched of color, my eyes standing out, enormous in my face, brimming with tears I will not shed yet.  I refuse to think yet.  I can’t.

I reach down with my free hand and wrench off one heel, then the other, dropping them carelessly on the carpet at my feet.I feel as if I’m moving through treacle, sluggish and slow, as I move toward the door on my stocking clad feet.  Behind me I hear a male voice growl menacingly.

“What in hell’s name have you done to that beautiful girl, bastard?!”  Breaking crockery and a grunt of pain.  William’s laughter rises over all.  I don’t care.  Whatever is happening behind me is not my problem.

I reach the door and push out, jerking in a deep gasp of the cool night air as I emerge.  It feels like the first oxygen I’ve had in hours.  I stand for a moment, staring blankly into the city night.  

I slowly realise that the only direction I have to take is…away.  It doesn’t much matter which way I go, as long as it takes me away.  Away from the pain of his betrayal.  Away from the pain of my own betrayal of myself, my carelessness.  Away from the devastating pain of discovering that the man I have loved to distraction for the last 6 months, since I first laid eyes on him, simply never existed.

My body begins to walk, no- trudge, away down the sidewalk, mechanically putting one foot in front of the other, clutching my arms around myself as the tears at last run free. A drowning sense of cold begins to emanate from the centre of my chest, freezing my heart, freezing my lungs.  My toe catches on a crack in the pavement, I’m barely aware of the pain.  

I find myself stumbling, falling onto my hands and knees, gulping in a sobbing breath.  And just like that, all strength has left my body and I find myself curled over my belly, arms wrapped around myself, gasping over and over.  Hyperventilating from the blazing pain of his contempt.  

How??  How could I let myself believe that this man, any man, who called me 'dirty whore’, was loving me?  I wasn’t good enough to be collared, not even good enough to keep for himself… he was just going to give me away, like some kind of used toy.  Fucktoy.  Stupid, dirty, used fucktoy…

I became aware of a broad hand stroking gently, consolingly down my spine, suited knees on the pavement, and a quiet voice murmuring in my ear, “Breathe, darling  girl…you will come through…”

The hand stroked over my hair and back repeatedly.  I was only grateful that it wasn’t him.  I knew, if it had been James,  I’d have obeyed him, gone back to him, forgiven him, and been lost to myself forever…  If he had only cared enough to come after me.

I felt strong arms lifting me to my feet, wrapping me in a hug, petting me and soothing me.  I didn’t know, and didn’t care who it was, as long as it wasn’t him.  The arms steered me to the street side and bundled me into a taxi.

“Darling, let’s get you home where you can have a good cry.  What’s your address?” the voice asked me quietly.My lungs seized.  Home?

“No, no, not home, no, no, no!  Not home!”  I was gibbering, visions of my flat, the place where he had taken me on every surface, in every room, the place where I waited for him, the place where he had whipped me and called me his good girl, the place where I had sold my soul?  NO!  That will never be my home again.  There was no place there that did not hold raw memories of him doing filthy, beautiful, awful things to me.  And I can’t face it, can’t face those memories now.  I can’t.

I found myself in a panic, struggling against the arms clasping me, hyperventilating at the very idea of facing those memories.

“Shh!  Shh, now darling, it’s alright.  We won’t go there if you don’t want to.  …Can I take you to your Mum? Or a sister?”

“Mum…is gone…I’m alone… I’ll always be alone.”  I whisper, more to myself than in answer to the question.

I hear him give an address to the cab driver, but since it wasn’t mine, it doesn’t  matter to me.  I don't care.  What a strange frame of mind… I can’t… I know I’m not processing right.  So raw, and yet so wrapped in cotton wool, detached somehow at the same time.  My feelings blipping past so fast that I can’t get a grasp on them.  I’m nearly dizzy with it.  

I know someone is sitting next to me, I know Tom Hiddleston is sitting next to me, an arm around my shoulders, a hand grasping mine, speaking comforting words soothingly in my ear.  And how weird is that?  But my attention is so firmly riveted on my internal turmoil that he’s just… insignificant.  Immaterial.  

All I can focus on is staring into the gaping hole in my heart, and knowing that I put it there.  Gullible, heedless, foolish, needy me.  I did this to myself.  How could I have been so stupid?

I feel wetness on my cheeks, trailing down to the corner of my lips, spreading, seeping into my mouth, the salt bitter on my tongue.  I ineffectually wipe the tears from my face, but they are replenished continually.  A handkerchief appears and presses into my hand.  

I mop my face, smearing away the remnants of my carefully applied make-up, and sit staring at the smudged square of white linen, the light from passing street lamps strobing over it, light, dark, light, dark.  I find myself lulled into a quiet kind of emptiness, and the tears finally stop falling, everything inside me still.  

The square of linen stops flickering from light to dark.  A large hand grasps mine, gently pulling me across the seat and out of the cab, maneuvering across the walk and up steps to a door, then ushers me inside with a gentle nudge in the small of my back.  

I stand inside the door as a light comes on, my eyes tracking unseeingly over the room in front of me.  I slowly become aware of that same soothing voice speaking to me, the sounds un-jumbling themselves into some kind of sense.

“We’ll put you in the guest room for tonight, love.  Let me show you where.  I’ll give you the tuppence tour, shall I?  This is obviously the lounge…  The kitchen is just there…  I’ll bring you a cuppa after we get you settled… here’s the light switch… mind the stairs, darling.”  He’s taken my hand and is towing me along gently behind him, gesturing at the rooms...  

"My room.“  He pushes the door wider to show a bedroom with a wide four poster bed and the standard bedside tables and armoire. Non- standard are the books piled probably 7 or 8 high on the nightstands.  Both of them.  

"Guest bath.”  he pulls me and shows me in, showing me a drawer with spare toothbrushes, hairbrushes, shampoo, shower gel, all that stuff.  "Have a shower or a good soak, if you like.  It’s all good.“  He takes me out and down the hall to the next door. 

"Your room.”  He says that firmly as he opens the door, as if assuring me that this is indeed my space, however temporarily.  All that really registers is that it is clean.  So very clean.  Almost sterile, in fact, as if no one had ever slept there, and not at all like my own jumble.  But it holds no scalding memories.  I could sleep here?  Yes.  Maybe.

He drops my hand, and reaching out, smoothes an errant strand of my hair back.  His hand drops to my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in.  I’ll go make that cup of tea…” He drops a quick kiss on my forehead, and with another squeeze of my shoulder he departs, leaving the door open.  

Just a moment later, with a brief tap on the doorframe, he is back, carrying a folded tee shirt. 

“Something for you to sleep in…” and he sets it carefully on the bed before leaving again.

All these actions register in a vague way, in the strangely blank state of mind I am in.  I take a step toward the bed, and suddenly my memory explodes, as if independent movement had triggered it.  

Treating me to a slide show of captured images:  the look on James’ face as he confirmed that he had a wife, my face drained of color in the looking glass at the restaurant, my reflection in the shop window before Tom’s eyes met mine, and then, oh then, crashing in on me, a thousand snapshots of him.  Him laughing, him commanding, him coming, him teasing me unmercifully, not letting me come, his jaw clenched as he stares down at himself fucking into my mouth.

I’ve fallen to my knees on the carpet, my hand over my mouth muffling my sobs, rocking back and forth in my misery.  I don’t know how long.  A minute, ten.  Forever. 

I hear a quiet “Shit!” behind me, and the clattering sound of a cup of tea being hastily set on the nightstand.  Hands lift me, scooping me up.  He settles on the bed, against the headboard and arranges me on his lap, his arms tight around me.  Rocking me.

“Shh, darling…  You’re not alone… It’ll be alright… You go ahead and have a good cry… That’s it, get it all out…”One strong arm clasps me to him, hand stroking up and down my spine as I sob, the other gently holding my head to his chest, over his heart, as I cry and cry.  His soft voice speaking soothing nonsense in my ear, rumbling lowly through his chest in the other ear.

I don’t know how long I cry.  And then the words begin to come without regard for the fact that I am telling a complete stranger the most intimate details of my life.  I am a sniveling mess, still hiccuping, gasping and snuffling back tears and snot.  I don’t fucking care.

“He… he sat there, all calm and…and told me that he had a wife.  A fucking wife!  Oh, god. He burned my life to the fucking ground in that moment…the last 6 months of my life a lie. A lie!  He was my everything… my Dom.  I gave him everything.  I emptied myself and let him fill me as he wanted, all for a lie…”

“He lied to you.  You couldn’t know darling, how could you?” he murmured comfortingly into my hair.

“I never asked.  I just assumed.  I was so overwhelmed, so grateful that this utterly gorgeous man wanted ME, of all people, and never stopped to think… he is… he was so intense.  God, I must have looked like a porkchop to him, ready to be eaten alive.  I…  I not only let him devour me.  I wanted him to do it.  Like I had a goddamn neon sign above my head blinking 'Fuck me.  Hurt me.  Kill me', tiny piece by tiny piece…”  A sob worked it’s way up my throat, choking me.

“Stupid, naive, trusting, little virgin fat-girl…”  I sneered at myself.

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re not stupid darling, and this wasn’t your fault!  He lied to you, he took advantage of…”

A bolt of pure fury tore through me.  "Don’t you tell me that I wasn’t stupid and naive!  I was there and you weren’t!  You don’t know me!“  I wrench myself out of his arms, scrambling back to crouch ferally on the bed.

"Fuck you, Hiddleston, you don’t know the first thing about me!”

He smiled.  The bastard actually smiled at that!“

There you are…”  He reached a long arm out, and though I try to evade him, he captured me easily and dragged me back into his lap, despite my struggles to get free.

“Shh, darling, you’ll be alright now…” and he simply held me, wrapping me up in himself, until I lay still in his arms, tears falling again.  Eventually I cried out and lay limp against him, eyes closed, my thoughts drifting.  I wondered why, after all the things that James had done tonight, it was the filthy names he called me when he was fucking me that I kept coming back to.

He reached to the bedside and picked up a bottle of water, urging it to my lips.

“Drink, sweet.  You need to replace those tears.”  I drink deeply.  He takes a sip himself and set the bottle aside.  

Then he proceeds to gently and efficiently strip me, as if I were a four year old, pulling my dress over my head and slipping his teeshirt on.  He reaches under the tee and opens the hooks on my beautiful basque, pulling it free, then stripping me of my stockings.  He tucks me between the sheets, and pulls a blanket over me.  Turning the light off, he sits next to me stroking my hair softly, hypnotically.

“Now, sleep…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one will give you a jolt. Never fear..  
> Smacking the kudos button is SO appreciated! And there's this little bookmark thingie... And comments... This is a long ride...

I opened the door to my little flat, and felt my whole body light up with incandescent joy at the sight that greeted me.  James, my James, standing on my doorstep in a gorgeous black suit, and an aquamarine tie that makes his eyes blaze.  He takes a step inside and closes the door behind him, flipping the lock.

“What are you doing still on your feet, pet?  Get down on your knees and greet me properly!” he growls.

My stomach swoops and knots in anticipation, in lust.  I feel his voice curling into the core of me. moistening me, slicking me, god.  My knees hit the floor with a thud, and a ringing pain.  I have yet to learn the trick of sliding gracefully, and painlessly, to my knees.

He smirks coldly at me, clearly enjoying my discomfort.  I shiver.  It’s going to be one of those nights, I see.  He reaches down and grabs my chin, not gently, tilting my head up.

“Open your mouth, slut.” he says as I hear the ratchet of his trouser zipper.  More chills race down my back, and my mouth floods with saliva, my lips part.  He pulls his half erect cock out of his trousers.

“Well?  Take it!  Suck, slut.”  

I wrap my lips around him, so tightly, but he’s not hard enough yet, so I loosen my lips and slide delicately down his lengthening shaft, tongue-ing the veins, as it begins to swell and jump.  I hear him groan above me.  I suck him into the back of my throat and swallow convulsively 2 or 3 times, feeling the movement of my throat caress the head of his cock.  I love this part, knowing that it is my mouth that makes him hard, excites him.  His hands are in my hair now, wound tight.  I know what’s coming and try to take a deep breath, get as much oxygen in my lungs as possible before his assault on my mouth truly starts, and I sheath my teeth with my lips. 

And then he is yanking me all the way into the curls at the base of his shaft, holding my head tightly as he pounds into my throat.  Every third stroke or so he pulls back slowly, allowing me to get a gasp of air into my desperate lungs.  The first time we did this I thought I was going to die, choking and gasping on his cock.  But he has taught me well, since.

“Eyes on me!” he grunts.  I look up at his face, into his eyes, and see them narrowed at me, his mouth a grim, dangerous line.  I know he loves to look down at himself as he fucks my mouth, watching as I struggle for air, watching my tears fall, watching as strings of saliva pour out of my mouth and coat his cock and his balls.

“Where are your hands??” he barks.  Oh, shit!  My hands are on his thighs, steadying myself against his thrusts.  But he requires that my hands be behind my back, my wrists crossed.  He wrenches himself out of my mouth, and pulls me to my feet by my hair.

"When will you ever learn, pet?  I’m beginning to think you like being punished, slut!”

He yanks me over to the divan and shoves me over the arm, the hard hand on the back of my neck pressing the side of my face into the the cushion.  I am still panting in air, but I gasp at the spike of pain as my mound strikes the arm of the divan.  Soon I will be gasping from other strikes…

He strips me of my yoga pants, quickly, efficiently, ruthlessly, with his free hand, his other in my hair keeping me pinned over the sofa arm, my face on the cushion.  
   
“Your hands…” a sharp ringing slap reverberates through the room, my cry on it’s heels.  "belong…“ another hard slap on the other bare cheek. "behind…” this blow lands precisely over the first, making me nearly levitate, my toes scrabbling for the floor only a centimeter or two away.  "your…“  The next blow lands on the other cheek, my cries echoing through the room.  My arse feels as though it has been set afire…"back!”  

The blows continue to rain down on my poor abused bottom.  I lose count, but each one is punctuated by my cry, until my voice is nearly gone and all I can do is mewl.

Suddenly it’s over, and his large palm is caressing my arse, soothing it.  Two fingers plunge into me, wrenching another hoarse cry from my throat.

“Oh, so wet for me, aren’t you, my filthy little whore?” he croons as he spreads my arousal all around my cleft, dragging one fingertip roughly right across my clit.  I nearly explode from that one brief contact, but I mentally grasp my orgasm with both hands and shove it away.  I don’t have permission to cum, and I desperately know I can’t take another beating right now.  

He continues to thrust his fingers into me, and to run that torturing finger tantalizingly across my clit, the liquid evidence of my arousal running down my leg, the wet sounds obscene.  I’m going to cum, oh, god, I’m going to cum without permission, feeling that tight coil winding tighter and tighter…I bite my own tongue hard to force myself back from the precipice, tasting copper.

He yanks his hand out of me and pulls me up, whipping me around and forcing me to my knees.  I by-god clap my hands behind me and look up at him as he crams his cock into my mouth and begins to slam into my throat.  My cunt is throbbing, and I think I might cum just from the reverberations of his thrusts running through my body.

Mercifully, he comes quickly, shooting, grinding his cum into the back of my throat.  I swallow as hard and fast as I can.  He does not like me to waste a drop. 

When he finally stops coming he stands softening in my mouth as I very delicately caress him with my tongue, cleaning him.  The hand that had held me so hard by my hair began to pet me softly as he withdrew from my mouth.  I whimpered to remind him that I haven’t had my release yet, feeling my core clench with need and anticipation…  He continues to caress my hair, and croons at me.

“Oh no, my darling little pet, only good girls get to come.”  Then he does something almost better than making me come.  He reaches a hand down to my elbow and helps me stand, wrapping a solicitous arm around my waist as I sway, catching my balance.

“Come, little pet, let’s get you cleaned up…” he whispers gently in my ear, and he half carries me to my bedroom, laying me gently, oh so gently on my tum.  With one last caress of my now throbbing arse, he leaves the room.  I rock in an ocean, feeling oddly both spent and aroused, my breath fanning back over my face from my pillow, too limp to move.

Moments later he is back, bearing a warm, wet flannel, and the bottle of aloe lotion from my sink top, sitting on the bed beside me.  He so carefully and thoroughly cleans me between my legs, and then setting the flannel aside, he squirts some lotion onto his hands.  I can hear the sound of the pump, and I tense, knowing that the shock of the cold lotion smoothing over my welted skin, along with his kneading the lotion over my arse will hurt initially.  And it does.  I whimper out loud.

“Poor little fucktoy, you’ve had a hard time of it tonight, haven’t you?” he croons.

“Yes, Sir.” I whisper, nodding my head slightly.

“But you took your punishment well.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“That’s my good little pet.  I think I’m going to change my mind, just this once, and give you that orgasm after all…”  My heart leapt.  I’ve pleased him after all.  He loves me again.  A tear rolls out of my eye.

“Yes please, Sir.”

“Hush now.  Hold still for me, pet.  No sounds now…” and he lifts me by my hips, my face and knees still on the bed, my arse presented high to him. He slides his hand along my sex, opening my lips and sliding two fingers into me.

“Still so very wet for me…” he whispers.  I want his hand on my clit so bad.  Instead he kneels behind me and slides smoothly into me.  I almost cry out when his hips slap against my battered arse, but I manage to hold it in, keeping my silence as he had ordered, nothing but the quiet high grunt of air escaping me from the force of his thrust.  Oh god, to be filled this way…   

He slams into my cunt relentlessly.  I can hear his grunts rising in pitch, know that he’s close, my cunt sucking at him.

“Come for me now, pet! NOW!” and he jams his thumb ruthlessly down on my swollen clit as he slaps once more down on my ass.

I wake with a silent scream reverberating in my head, my throat locked down, hips thrusting toward the ceiling, riding the waves of my dream orgasm.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

I opened my eyes slowly, my eyes gritty, and my head aching.  I laid there, in the unfamiliar, but warm bed, feeling my wet dream ripple and fade away.  The sun peeking in around the drapes creates a twilight neither morning nor evening.  

The previous evening rolled slowly in on me, like a fog, grey, wrapping my mind in detached cotton-wool. I knew the jagged things that awaited me under the blanket of fog.  I pushed it all away, dragging myself out of the warm cocoon of blankets, and determinedly staggered toward the bath down the hall.

 I sat on the toilet and relieved myself, only then realizing that I was dressed in nothing but my knickers and a grey v-neck tee shirt stretched taut over my breasts.  I plucked at the tee, wondering briefly why I’m not freaked out that a strange man stripped me and dressed me in his shirt, but honestly, I couldn’t be bothered.  Reaching through the glass door, I started the shower, and then unwrapped a new toothbrush, scrubbing my teeth.  Gah.  All I’d had last night was that disgusting glass of red wine.  No wonder my mouth tastes like arse.   
   
I peeled the tee off and stepped out of my knickers, dropping them on the floor.  I stood staring at them, my pretty, pretty knickers; sheer smoke grey with tiny pink bows at the hips.  I scooped them up and dropped them in the rubbish can.  I’ll never wear them again.  I never want to see them again.  I never want to see any of last night’s finery again.  Which is a crying shame, because that dress looked damn fine on me.  Wearily, I shook my head.  I must be deluded.  C'est la guerre…

I climbed into the shower and simply stood, letting it all wash down the drain.  If only it were that easy…  I snorted, remembering Mum singing a favorite Broadway musical tune in the shower… 

I sang a few bars: “Gonna wash that man right outta my hair…”  but then my throat closed up, and all I could do was sob as the hot water poured down over me, the pain in my chest growing and growing until I was screaming and pounding my fists on the shower wall.

A pair of warm, strong arms slid around me, somehow not startling me at all, (why bother?) wrapping me up from behind, pulling me into a solid chest.  A stubbly scratching glided along my neck as he hooked his chin over my shoulder and crooned to me as I cried, both arms wrapped tightly around my torso.  He rocked me hypnotically from foot to foot.  

Eventually my sobs trailed off, and my sniffles and hiccups subsided. He drew my hair back over my shoulders and gently washed it, massaging his long fingers into my scalp, rinsing and detangling carefully.  The shampoo smells like violets.  Then he reached for a shower sponge and gel, and washed my shoulders and back, trailing down my legs, carefully lifting each of my feet and washing the soles of my feet.  

Standing, he pulled me back into the stream of water and rinsed the soap off.  Adding more gel to the sponge, he reached around, gently washing the front of my body, lifting each arm, gliding the puff down the inside of my arms, circling the undersides of my breasts, ribs, belly, through my pubic hair and down my legs.  

It wasn’t impersonal at all, but it was gentle, warm and soothing.  By the time he’d thoroughly rinsed me, the water was beginning to run cool.  He pulled me out of the shower and dried my body, wrapping me in a towel and seating me on the lid of the loo while he toweled himself off.

Somewhere in the dim reaches of my brain it registered that he’d stepped into the shower wearing a pair of  black flannel pyjama bottoms.  He picked up a comb and ran it through my hair, then took me back to his room.  He rummaged in his dresser, brought me a clean tee and a pair of sweat pants, and helped me into them.  All this time he didn’t speak at all, just gently rolled the bottoms of the legs into cuffs, as I stood and let him dress me.

Taking my hand, he led me downstairs and deposited me on a stool at the breakfast counter, and plugged in the kettle with fresh water.  He left the room, brushing a kiss on my forehead and returned minutes later in jeans and a tee shirt. He proceeded to make tea, putting a hot cuppa in front of me.  I sat and stared, dry eyed at the cup for an endless moment, before picking it up and taking a sip.

“Thank you, Tom.” I said quietly, trying to force the fog away.

“Of course, darling.  Drink your tea.  Eggs and toast for breakfast.”  He drank his own tea and moved about the kitchen, as I watched, getting eggs and butter out of the stainless steel refrigerator. 

I began to take note of my surroundings for the first time as I drank my tea, looking around his kitchen.  It was stainless steel everywhere, the appliances, the countertops, the cupboard faces.  I shuddered.  It was cold and soulless, and it creeped me right the fuck out.

“Tom?”  He was scrambling eggs in -what else?- a stainless steel bowl.  "Tom?“ I raised my voice to be heard.  He turned around, still whisking.

"Sorry, darling, I didn’t hear you.  What do you need?” setting down the whisk and wiping his hands on a tea towel.  He looked prepared to leap to any little task I asked of him.  I was taken aback, and I shook my head frantically at him.

“Nothing! I don’t need anything!  I just, I just wanted to ask a question.” I stuttered.  "I’m sorry!“

He walked over to where I was sitting and draped an arm companionably around my shoulders, gave me a squeeze.

"Darling, there’s nothing to be sorry about.  Now, what’s your question?”

I bit my lip, and I could feel myself blush.  "It’s a bit rude…“

"Spit it out!” he said with a grin.  "I won’t be offended!“

"Well… do you… do you actually like this kitchen?  All this stainless steel?  It reminds me of a morgue…”

Tom burst out laughing, looking around the room.  "Yeah, I hate it too!  It was like this when I bought the place.  I’ve been meaning to get it torn out and re-done, but I haven’t had the time.  I’m traveling a lot lately, and when I’m home the last thing I want is all the noise and bother of a renovation, workmen traipsing in and out…you know.“

I laughed.  "God, I’m so relieved!  I’m pretty sure that the person who designed this kitchen should have a mental evaluation…  I’m really glad it wasn’t you, or I might have to run screaming!”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t blame you.  I like modern well enough, but this… is way past too much!  It’s too cold.  I guess I didn’t really think it through when I bought the place.  I like the rest of the house quite a bit, and the location is great, love the neighborhood.  Good take away nearby!” he winked.

I chuckled at that.  "It had better have good take away! I can’t see wanting to spend too much time cooking in here.  Do you cook much?“

"Well, I can cook some, but,” he scratched an ear, “I guess I don’t much, anymore.  I tend to ignore the kitchen.  Now you’ve brought my attention to it, I can see that the state of it is probably why I don’t cook more when I’m home.”  

He turned away to pull a frying pan from the overhead rack, setting it on the stove and turning the gas on.  He busied himself with organising the toast and eggs.  I watched him repeatedly duck his head around the overhead utensil rack, even though it was high enough that he’d probably miss bashing his head.

“Doesn’t that overhead rack worry you?  You’re so tall, I’d think you would feel a bit, I don’t know, claustrophobic?”

“That’s a good word for it.  Yeah, I do.  It’s one of the first things I’ll do when I finally get around to renovating, tear that damn thing out…” he mused, looking around the room speculatively.  "I’ve only ever thought about what I’d like to tear out of this room, never really thought about what to replace it with.  What would you do?“ he cocked his head inquisitively.

I slid off my stool, thoroughly diverted, and looked around, thinking where to start.  I walk over to a cupboard, reaching for it.  Glancing at him for permission and receiving a nod before opening it, I hummed to myself a bit in thought as I opened cupboards and drawers, tested the glide of the hinges, looked at the small widow, the island, the concrete flooring (gag), glancing back at him every now and then.  He watched me curiously as he stirred the eggs in the pan.

"Well, the appliances are good.  Top-notch, in fact.  I’d leave those.  The cupboards are roomy, and hung well, spaced well.  Do you bake?” I asked.

“Not often.  Biscuits at Christmas, and the like, nothing more complicated.” he looked bemused.  "I’m a dab hand at scones!“  He wiggled his eyebrows in his enthusiasm.  I laughed again.

"Ok, so you probably don’t have any use for for that baking table.” I pointed.  "Besides, It’s a bit low for you.“

"Oh, is that what it is?  I’d always wondered why there was such a low section there!  I’ve never used it for anything, you’re right, it is too low for me.”

“Mmm.  Baking tables are lower because women tend to be a good bit shorter than your tall self, and the table has to be low so they can get good leverage for kneading dough.”  I pantomimed.  "It’s great if you’re short and you bake a lot of bread.“ 

 I looked around one last time, then left the kitchen to have a peek at his lounge.  Warm wood floors, lots of built in bookcases, loaded with books, squashy armchairs, warm colors.  I wander back into the kitchen to find him watching me curiously.

"So, here’s what I’d do.  Tear away the cupboard facings, and the counter tops.  Get rid of the island.  Enlarge the window, maybe put a bow front window there.  You want more light and air in here, more warmth.  Make it a place you enjoy being in.”

He nodded, setting down a plate of eggs in front of my stool, and handing me flatware and a serviette.

I scooped up a forkful of fluffy eggs, and bit.  "Mmm.“ I moaned, just realising how hungry I was.  

"These are quite good… so, replace the cupboard faces with some warm cherry wood doors…” I glanced at him again.  "Build in some bookshelves there for cookbooks.  Do the floors in red oak, put in a big oak kitchen table, instead of the island, have mismatched wooden chairs with comfy bright cushions.  Lots of wood, but different types and colors, do you see?“  I waved my fork around in between ravenous bites.  "Maybe even a fireplace in that wall… Make the place warm with lots of different kinds of woods, a warm Arts and Crafts-type stained glass lamp over the table…directed spots over your work surfaces.  Your kitchen should be the heart of your home!  Get some color on the walls, either artwork you like, pictures of family and friends, or maybe paint one wall a warm dark gold or cherry…  Good granite, or even butcherblock countertops.” 

 I squinted at the counters.  "Personally I’d go for the butcherblock.  You’d have to get them re-sanded and finished every few years, depending on how much you use them, but you could get them done at the same time as you refinish the wood floors in the rest of the place…“

I looked up from the final bite of my toast, and blushed, as he regarded me in speculation, his eyebrows cocked.  

"Sorry… you did ask.”  I ducked my head down, feeling like I’d let my enthusiasm carry me away.  Tom was squinting his eyes around at the kitchen, imagining the changes I’d mentioned.

“No, no!  That’s… that’s just exactly what I’d like.  I think that would be warm and homey.  Comfortable.”  He turned back to me.  "How did you do that?  In less than six minutes you figured out something that would suit me down to the ground!“

"Oh, well,” I laughed, blushing, “it’s what I do, you see.  I, um, own a kitchen design and renovation business.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” and he was off, asking me about the details of my job, if I did any of the work myself, or was just the designer.  I do a good bit of the work myself, custom hand-work, but I have a couple of burly helpers, of course, George and Tariq.  Much of the work is too heavy, the pieces too large, for one person.  Sharon to keep the books and invoices.  Teamwork is essential.

Before I realised it, I’d spent an entire hour without thinking of James once.  Or crying.  Of course, just thinking that thought made me tear up.  Dammit.  I choked a little.  It’s going to be a bitch to get over him…

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Right, that’s enough of that!  Come on, we’re going to the grocery.”  He took my cold cup of tea out of my hand and set it on the counter.

“Darling, no matter how long you stare into the bottom of a cup of tea, the scenery never changes…  And neither does the problem that set you contemplating the world’s mysteries in a tea cup!  Time to move!  Go freshen up.  Meet me back here in 5 minutes.”  He waggled a finger at me playfully.  "Don’t be late.“

I went upstairs and ‘freshened up’, staring at myself in the mirror over the sink as I washed my hands.  God, what the hell am I doing here?  I looked like something the cat dragged in- after he’d killed it several times, dark shadows under my eyes, red rimmed eyelids, red nose.  

Fuck me, I’m in Tom Hiddleston’s mirror.  That’s not embarrassing at all!  I clutch my hair with both hands as I stare blankly in the mirror.  Here’s the weird thing: he’s only Tom Hiddleston when I stop to think about it.  Most of the time, he’s just…Tom.  He’s been sweet, friendly, kind, gentle, caring, - he’s a regular fucking Girl Scout!  

I need to remember, he’s not just some bloke who’s being nice, he’s Tom Hiddleston, famous film star.  I really have to get back to some kind of actual, you know…reality.  And my reality couldn’t be further than Tom Hiddleston’s bath.

There was a knock on the door.  "Stop that, darling!  I can hear you thinking all the way downstairs!  Get on, the day’s not getting any younger!  Two more minutes special dispensation!  If you’re not downstairs by then, I’m coming in after you!”

“Yeah, Yeah.”  I called back through the door.  "Go away, Hiddleston, let a girl pee in peace!“  I don’t know where my sass was coming from, but for just a moment I felt almost…normal.

There was nothing I could do about the jumble of blonde curls springing crazily out of my head.  It’s fucking floofy.  If I’d had a hair tie, I’d have braided it all back, I looked like little orphan Annie.  Jeez.  But my hair is what it is. Nothing else I can do about the bare face.  Wait, there’s the tube of lip gloss in my clutch that Tom had rescued, and my powder compact.  It ain’t much, but it’s what I have.  

I smeared a bit of gloss over my lips as I stared at my blotchy, cried-out face, then applied the powder, attempting to smooth out the the ravages of repeated bouts of tears. Christ, all I do is cry.  I’ve gotta stop doing that.  I heaved a breath, and flicked the lights off.  Once more into the breach, dear friends…

I went reluctantly downstairs, stopping on the bottom step hesitantly.  I cleared my throat and opened my mouth, but it took a moment to find my voice.  Tom looked at me expectantly.

"I… I should probably go now, Tom.” I looked away.  "You’ve been very kind…“

Tom stood and walked over to me in three long strides.  "Why?” he asked, searching my face.

“Um…why what?”  I was confused.

“Why should you go now?” he clarified.

“Well, I, uh…” I stuttered, sounding like a first class ninny.  Tears pricked my eyes.  Again, dammit.

“Darling, you said that you should go, not that you want to go.  So tell me, why should you go?” He stood looking at me patiently, taking my hands in his.

“Be-because I should.  I’ve caused you enough trouble!  You’ve been very sweet, but… You must have better things to do than be blubbed all over by the likes of me!  I’m no one to you--”  
   
He interrupted, looking at me.“You are now.” he declared quietly.

My eyes flew up to his.  Honestly, I don’t know whether to be grateful to him for his kindness and care of me, or to be angry at him for being Tom Hiddleston  while he does it!  Why can’t he be just Tom?  I mean, my life took a major twist last night, right?  You’d think that would be enough.  But nooo, only I would get picked up and carried home by Tom Freaking Hiddleston while in the middle of an emotional breakdown.  I mean, Jesus!  The universe just doesn’t give me any breaks, does it??  In the end I just stare at him like some gormless…pathetic…thing that I am.

“All ready to go home and face whatever it is that panicked you so last night, are you?” he asked me softly.

“But…”

“Will he be there?  Are you going back to him?” Tom asked me baldly, the corner of his mouth tucking in slightly, making him look grim.  I paled.

“What?  Of course not!  Why would he be there?  He wouldn’t want…”  He won’t want me anyway.  I don’t want him.  I left him.  He…he lied to me.  The tears spill over and course down my face.  Fucking again!  I cover my face to stifle my sobs.

And Tom is there, folding me into his arms.  "Shh, darling…“ After a few moments of rocking me, he asks me, "Does he have a key?”

My heart seized.  Of course he does.  Oh, god.  What will I do if he uses it?  If he’s there?  I nod jerkily at Tom, and his face hardens.

“Right, then. You’re not going home until we get your locks changed.  I’ll call a locksmith when we get back.”

“W…we?”

“That’s right.  We.  It’s not a terrible thing to lean on someone who cares, darling.  And judging from last night, I’d say you have reason to be afraid of him.  I’m not letting you walk into that, if I can help it.”  He quirked a little grin at me.  "I didn’t go to all the trouble to save the damsel, only to throw her back to the dragon!“

I managed a small watery chuckle back.  Bless you, Tom, I think, for lightening the mood.  I scrubbed my hands over my face, rubbing away the tears.

"Okay.  Right!” I tried for sounding brisk.  "What are we shopping for?“

"Important things.  Tea.  Milk.  Biscuits.  Ice Cream.  Chocolate.  Tequila.  Oh, and limes, too, I suppose”

I choked.  Seriously??  I put my fists on my hips and looked him tip to toe.“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.  Of course.”

“Tom, all that junk food…are you…like, ovulating?”

An eyebrow flew up, and then back down again.  "Not today, dear.“ he deadpanned.  A tiny smirk at the corner of his lips.

"Oh, silly me!”  I threw my hands in the air.  "Of course it’s not ovulation!  If it were you’d be drinking Bailey’s, not Tequila!“  I shook my head.  "Honestly, what a combination, Chocolate and Tequila!  Gag.”  I made a face at him and shuddered.

Tom pulled a 'thinking’ face, tapping his chin with a long finger.  "Hmm, maybe that’s the reason I can’t get pregnant!  I’ve been drinking Tequila instead of Bailey’s!“  He placed the back of his wrist on his forehead, in a classically melodramatic fashion.  "I’ve been doing it all wrong!”  He wailed falsetto.  He can’t hold his grin in any longer, his eyes shining with silliness.  Jesus, Mr. Sunshine!  I play along, shaking a finger at him.

“Well, I should think so!  I must say, Tom, that if your aim is to get pregnant, the Tequila definitely won’t help!”  I snickered at him.  " Though I’m pretty sure the Bailey’s won’t help either…“

"Well, I’m sure you can help me figure it out later.  For now, let’s get a move on!”  He jangled his keys at me to hurry me along.

“Um, Tom…  You really want to take me outdoors like …this?”  I gestured at the ridiculously over-long trousers, and over-tight tee shirt he had given me.  Not to mention my lack of footwear. He looked me over, with his head cocked playfully to one side.

“Darling, you’d look gorgeous in anything.” (What the hell is the matter with him, is he crazy or just blind?)  "But I think we can make a few adjustments to make you feel more comfortable.  Sit.  Wait here.“ 

He made a little palm down gesture, and I found myself plopping down on his sofa, wondering what the hell he thinks he can do that would not make me look even more like a refugee from the jumble table at a church fete.  He charged up the stairs two at a time.  I had to admire the energy with which he moved, not to mention my jealousy at his long legs’ ability to stretch to two steps.  Tall fucker.  

He was back in moments carrying what looked like a hoodie.  He stopped in front of me and draped the hoodie around me.

"Arms.” he ordered, grasping my hand and working it into the sleeve as if he were dressing a toddler.  "Now, the other.“ and he worked that arm into it’s sleeve.  He bent over me and adjusted the lie of the hood down my back, and then drew the zipper part way up my chest.  

I looked down and could see a definite improvement, the hoodie was large enough to disguise the fact that I was a fairly well endowed braless woman wearing a too small in the chest men’s tee shirt.  He proceeded to roll the sleeves up over my hands to my wrists, and then shoved them up to my elbows, thus neatly disguising the fact that they were miles too long for me.  

He knelt at my feet and briskly rolled up the bottom of the sweat pants, and then produced pair of socks, with instructions to put them on.  He went to his front closet and rummaged around in the bottom, muttering to himself, before finally unearthing what he’d  been searching for.  Of all things, he’d found a lovely pair of women’s calf high boots.  I eyed them dubiously.

"Tom, please tell me that you don’t have a women’s shoe fetish?”

He actually giggled at that.  "No, dear, definitely not my cup of tea!“

"Well, then,” I looked at him sternly, “you haven’t sent some poor girl off home with no shoes, have you?”

He looked at me down his long nose and intoned  "No, I am not such a cad as all that!“  He shook his head, and smiled.  "They’re my sister’s.  She left them here a few weeks ago.  There are always a few of her bits and bobs around here.  I know they’re a bit long for you, hence the socks.  Let’s see them…” as he worked my feet and rolled up trouser cuffs into the boots.  

“There!”  he sat back on his heels in satisfaction.  "Stand up, let’s have a look at you!“  He backed up and pulled me to stand, stepping back and lifting my arms out to my sides, examining me.  It was all I could do to hold back nervous giggles, he looked so intently at me.  He turned me, gently moving me in front of a mirror on the wall, and presented me with a flourish.

"Well?  What do you think?  Will you do for a trip to the shops?”

I stared at myself.  How in fuck’s sake had he managed to make me presentable?  I shook my head.  "I might have to get you to come over and dress me every morning.  

"Thanks.“  I looked up into his face, my eyes pricking. "Thanks for… everything.” I whispered.

“De nada, ducks!  It’s all good.”  He reached a hand out and caressed my cheek.

“Right, we’re off!” and he grabbed my hand, leading me out the door and into the morning sunshine.

“I can see why you like this neighborhood.”  I looked around me, watching the energetic bustle of people coming in and out of the small shops that interspersed the homes along the street.  

Tom crooked his elbow and pulled my hand through to rest on his bicep, as he started us off in a companionable stroll.  He smiled and nodded to several people who greeted him, but didn’t break off our conversation about the neighborhood to speak to them.  One elderly neighbor looked as if she’d have liked to have a chat, but Tom kept us moving politely on.

He turned to me quizzically.  "Do you know, darling, I wanted to introduce you to Mrs. Harris, she’s a marvelous old duck, but I don’t actually know your name!“

I blinked at him.  My eyes tearing up unexpectedly, I quickly looked down, watching our feet as we strolled.  I’m not sure how I feel about that.  How odd that I hadn’t really thought about it.  There’s some…grace (?), or ease, about him not knowing my name.  A certain anonymity that’s almost comforting.  I guess, because he’s famous?  Fuck, I don’t know.

What a peculiar life I’ve found myself in.  Yesterday afternoon I had been wrapped up in giddiness and anticipation, believing that James was in love with me, and that he was going to ask me.  Last night I found out differently in the most cruel way imaginable.  He could not have cut me more deeply if he had disemboweled me in the High Street and declaimed his contempt and disinterest in front of an audience of thousands…  

And then Tom’s bizarre rescue act.  I sniffed back a tear.  I felt his other hand come up and clasp mine where it lay in the crook of his arm.  He kept us just kept walking along, letting the silence lie quietly, lost in thought .  Finally, I took a deep breath and looked up at his pensive face.

"Why, Tom?  Why on earth did you pick me - literally! - up off the street and bring me home with you?  Not that I’m not grateful, I am!  But the state I was in last night, and still am, just beneath the surface…”  I rubbed the back of my hand under my nose and sniffled.  

"I could have been, well, any crazy person.  I certainly was damn near crazed last night…  Why, Tom?“

He shrugged.  "How could I walk away after seeing what he’d done to you?”  He thought a moment.  "Yet, as obviously destroyed as you were, you still found the… wherewithal to walk away with your head held high.  You were incredibly brave and beautiful in that moment…“  he sighed.  
   
"That’s very… sweet, Tom, but…”

He sighed again,  "Let’s just say I have a …weakness for brave and vulnerable…“  He tilted his head down, his look dark and almost brooding.  "Will you tell me what happened? I couldn’t hear much, but I could certainly see…”

I looked up at him, huffing a sigh.  "Trust an actor to want a story. I suppose I owe it to you… Look, I’ll tell you later, when we get back to yours.  I don’t want to cry in public.  And I certainly don’t want to do it standing next to you and end up all over the internet under the caption  "Tom Hiddleston makes the fat chick cry!“

His eyebrows snapped together.  "Alright.  And when we get back, we can talk about that , too!”  he said somewhat grimly, his lip doing that thing again.  "Look, here we are.  Let’s get these groceries taken care of..“  
   
I spotted the shop next door and turned to Tom.  "Tell you what, you get the groceries, I’m going to run in there and take care of a few things.”  
Tom looked over my shoulder curiously.  "Clothing?  But you don’t need to…“

"Tom, fuck off and let a girl buy some clean knickers, will you?  I’ll find you in the grocery.  I won’t be long…”  
   
With that I dove into the store and headed straight back to the lingerie section, not stopping to ogle the pretties.  I’m so, so done with fancy knickers for awhile.  Picking out a simple pair of white cotton cheeky pants, and a basic white cotton bra, I spotted a display of yoga trousers, and snatched up a pair that ought to fit.  Dashing into the dressing room I changed into everything.  It all fit well enough, so I pulled the tags off and paid, wearing my purchases out.

I felt so much better in my own clothes, well, clothes that I’d paid for anyway.  Less like an invalid.  Although, I probably should have bought a teeshirt as well.  But I wasn’t  
quite ready to give up the comfort of Tom’s soft shirt, not yet.  Soon enough.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

After we arrived back at his, and put the groceries away, Tom made us sandwiches and opened a couple of beers.  I’m still creeped out by this weird morgue-like kitchen, with all its stainless steel.  

"You could do autopsies on that island.“ I mused randomly.

 

Tom looked over at the island and set his sandwich down, frowning at it.  He wiped his mouth with his serviette, picked up his plate and beer, and said, "You’re right.  Let’s eat in the lounge.”

“Tom, I didn’t mean…”

“No, you’re right.”  He gestured me to follow him through to the lounge and sat me on the sofa with my plate. 

"I’d much rather eat in here, it’s more conducive to digestion.  Besides, I like the way your hair shines in that sunbeam.“ 

He tugged on one of my curls briefly, before seating himself.  We ate companionably, chatting about our food likes and dislikes for a few moments before Tom stirred.

"Will you tell me what happened last night?” he asked, taking a sip of beer and settling back in his seat.

The bite of sandwich in my mouth turned to dust and I swallowed with difficulty, chasing it down with beer.  I set my plate aside and curled up in the corner of the sofa with my beer.  Sighing, I tilted my head into the sunbeam falling at my back, soaking up some warmth to ward off the chill of my memories.  I tried to shrug nonchalantly.

“The bastard tried to pimp me out last night.” I said baldly.

Tom sat up with a jerk.  "You mean…?“

"Yeah, well, I don’t know if there was actual money involved.  But he was definitely going to ‘share’ me out with the odious William.”  

I picked at the label on my beer bottle and sighed. 

"I’m such an idiot.  I had no clue.  I honestly thought James was going to…ask me to…“  I trailed off in a choked whisper.  

"I just don’t understand how I could have been so fucking blind.  Of course, now that I look back, I can see, there were all kinds of clues that I missed…”

“Such as?” Tom asked me curiously.

I glanced up at him.  Did I really want to go into the details with him?  Honestly, right now?  I just didn’t fucking care.  I’ve no idea why I trust him.  I shrugged.  He might as well know just what kind of idiot he was harboring.

“…He always called me his 'pet’.  I thought it was a term of endearment.  Now I come to look back on it, I've realised that it was simply… factual.  I was never really anything more to him.”  I squirmed uncomfortably.  "But it certainly was better than when he called me his slut, or fucktoy…  God, the one I really hated was 'filthy whore’…"

Tom made a small noise, and I looked up at him.  “If you hated it, why didn’t you say something?” he asked me intently.

I took a long pull on my beer.  "I didn’t really feel like I could.“

"Well, why didn’t you just use your safeword?”

“Safeword?” I looked at him curiously.  He bolted upright.  He was sitting there with his mouth literally hanging open, looking astonished.  Then his mouth snapped shut in a furious line, the corner of his mouth ticking in.

“Didn’t you say he was your Dom?  Didn’t he ever ask you for one?  Didn’t he ever tell you??”  He looked horrified.

“Tell me what?   What are you on about?”

His face softened, as he watched me.  He shifted closer and he took my hand gently.  "You were in a D/s relationship with this man and you never knew what a safeword was?  Safewords are a pretty basic thing…“

"So, yeah, turns out I’m even stupider than I thought I was… Thanks for pointing that out.” I said bitterly, tugging at my hand.  "So, tell me, what is a 'safeword’?“

"Darling, a safeword is a word that you mutually agree on in advance, that you can say to make everything stop if something gets too frightening or painful.”  He shrugged. "People often say 'stop’ or 'no’ during sex when they don’t really mean it, for instance, during a role play scene.  So, a mutually agreed safeword lets your partner know for sure when they need to stop…“

"God, you mean I could have made him…?” I floundered.  I’d had no idea.  I can think of at least twice when I’d tried to stop him, with no success.  It was pretty traumatic for me.  

"But why didn’t he…?“

Tom grunted in disgust.  "Darling, that’s the way it’s supposed to work in a legitimate D/s relationship.  The fact that he never discussed this with you…that’s a pretty big violation of your trust.  Without a safeword, without you having the right to make him stop, you never really had the right to consent, did you?  And that moves you right out of  'Safe, Sane and Consensual’, and straight into flat out abuse…”  Tom sat back, looking at me, troubled.

“Abuse?  Jeez, Tom, don’t get me wrong, there were definitely things that I didn’t like, but I enjoyed most of it.  Well, a lot of it, anyway.”

“Damn it!  Enjoying something doesn’t mean it’s not abuse!  Without a safeword, there’s no real consent!”  He stared broodingly at me a moment.  I felt pretty taken aback at his vehemence.  It was a little scary, actually.  A shiver ran up my spine.

“You need to do some homework.  Once you get home, I want you to get online and look up BDSM and D/s relationships, do you hear me?  Darling, you’re a walking incitement to… You need to have a better idea of what to expect, what you’re letting yourself in for, and what other options there are in the lifestyle, if you’re even going to continue on.  You need to know about Safewords, and Hard Limits, and Safe, Sane, and Consensual, among other things!  You can’t continue to be this naive, you could get seriously hurt.”  
I snorted.

“More hurt.” he amended.

I looked at him speculatively.  "You know a lot about it…“

He raised a stern eyebrow at me.  "That’s right.” he said firmly.

“Huh.” I guess I’ll have to mull that one over.   
   
Suddenly he grinned at me, changing the atmosphere immediately.  "Now will you tell me your name?“

I laughed, tucking my hair behind my ear.  "It’s Elena Mackenzie, Ellie.”  I extend my hand for a shake, and he took it solemnly, before breaking into a smile.

“Lovely to meet you, Ellie.” 

I sigh. 

"What?“ he asks.

"Nothing.” I shake my head.  "I guess I just kinda liked being called 'Darling’ for a change.“

He hugged me.  I heard him whisper into my hair.  "You’ll always be 'darling' to me…”

“Awwww!”  I started to say something smart, but a new thought barged into my head.

I suddenly felt all the blood drain out of my face, as it struck me.  If James had lied to me about those two big fucking things…  What are the chances that he lied to me about another big fucking thing?  Oh god, I have to go! 

 "Fuck!  Fuck, fuck, fucking hell!“  I gave Tom a wild look,  jumped up, and raced out of the room, charging up the stairs to collect my belongings, and stuff them into a handy carrier sac.

"Ellie, what the hell??”  Tom called after me. 

Still scrambling, I ran back downstairs into the lounge.  Dropping my bag at my feet, I threw my arms around his middle, and squeezed hard. 

"Thank you, Tom, so, so much!“ 

His arms came up around me in a reflexive hug, but when I tried to drop my arms and step back, I found he had me immobilized, and he wasn’t letting me go without a proper explanation.

"Ellie,” he said calmly, “what’s going on?”

I wriggled a bit.  "Tom, let me go!  I have to go!“

"Is the house on fire?  Is someone bleeding?” He asked patiently.

“No!  Now let me go!”  I’m frantic to get away, to get moving.

“Ellie.  Tell me what is so urgent.”  He is implacable.

I thump my head down on his chest.  "I have to gooo…“ I whine.  I wonder if I can get him off my back by telling him it’s 'girl stuff’.  Probably not.  Damn it!

"Toooommm!”

“Ellllieeee!” He mimicked.

Despite myself, I’m beginning to see the ridiculous.  And I’m beginning to calm down from my initial panic.  

"Look, Tom, I really don’t want…“

He growled and gave me a little shake, interrupting me.  

"I didn’t ask you what you want, I asked you what’s going on.  Answer me.”  He says this without the least amount of threat in his voice, but I am certain that I’m going nowhere until he gets his answer.

“Fine!” I huff.  Taking a breath, and trying to stay calm, I said, “If, if James could lie to me about such a big thing, well, what other big things might he have lied about?”  I paused to let that sink in a moment.  Tom nodded, his eyes on my face.  

"Um.  I have to find a clinic, right now.“  His face paled, staring into my fear.

"Right.”  He set me down. “Do you want the one closest here or do you want your home clinic?” he asked, pulling out his phone to look up the information.

“Yes!” I said, nodding vigorously.  He glanced up, and smiled slightly at me before nodding back.

“Ok, let’s go.  You can leave that stuff here.” He indicated the carrier stuffed with my beautiful dress.  He put his phone in his pocket and pulled out his keys.

“W-what?  Tom, you don’t have to do that!”

He just looked at me and snorted impatiently.  "You were in a tearing hurry 30 seconds ago, darling.  Why are you arguing with me?“  He grabbed my hand and started towing me out the door.   
   
Almost before I know it, we’re pulling up outside the clinic and he’s coming around the car and opening my door.  He holds his hand out to me.  I look up at him from my seat, and my eyes well up.  I take his hand and let him pull me up.  I’m really glad I don’t have to do this all alone.  How did he know?

"I…I just want you to know, I’m kind of a baby about needles.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “me, too.”

He takes my hand and walks with me into the clinic.  The clinic is busy, but nobody takes any notice of us, everyone is so fixed on their own health issues.  I grab a clipboard and begin to fill out the paperwork.  Tom grabs one too.  I look up at him, and he shrugs.

“I have to get checked for the film insurance. I can do it here, or when I sign my next film contract.”  He shrugs again.  

"I’m here, might as well get it over with.  Besides, you can hold my hand when they come at me with that enormous needle.“ He gives me a small rueful smile.

Really?  It’s perfectly clear to me that he’s doing this out of some kind of…weird chivalry.  But there’s a certain etiquette in these places, so, I just nod my head, and murmur, "I didn’t ask.” as I hand over my paperwork and take a seat.

We wait, a rather tedious amount of time.  I’m sitting in my chair, my knees jumping up and down nervously.

“I swear to god… If he has screwed me up on this, I’m going to kill the fucker…”

“Want help hiding the body, darling?”  

I turn to him and snicker.  "Thanks for the offer, that’s very kind of you.“

"It’s not kind at all,” he growls, “I just want to make sure the grave is deep enough!"

***

Replete, I set my plate down on the coffee table and sat back comfortably in the corner of his sofa, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my forearms across them as I watched Tom clean his plate.  It’s nice to see a man enjoy a meal that I cooked.  James never…  I stop that thought in its tracks.  I’m just not going there, right now.

Tom took our plates into the kitchen, and returned shortly with his hands full, setting down a bottle of tequila, a salt shaker, a bowl of lime wedges and two shot glasses.  And a fucking bar of chocolate, too.  And not just any old chocolate, the good stuff, a bar of Swiss Lindt chocolate.

"Really, Tom?  Tequila and chocolate?  You’ll never get pregnant on this combo…”

“Oh, come on!” he grinned at me.  "Where’s your sense of adventure?“

"Um, in the same place I left my good taste?”

He snickered and poured out a measure of tequila into the two shot glasses.  Licking the web of his hand, he salted it and picked up a shot glass.  Tipping it in salute, he said “Cheers!” with a challenging grin and downed its contents, briefly sucking in air before biting into a wedge of lime.

I followed suit.  I mean really, what else was I going to do?  I’m not really one to back down from a challenge.  I nearly choked on the fire of it, but I managed to snatch the lime out of his hand and bite into it.

Tom grinned at my watering eyes.  "Very good, darling!  Another?“

"Bring it, bitch!”  I growled back at him.

Tom threw his head back and laughed.  "Oh, you are so going down, darling!“

"Yeah, you wish!”  I replied as I licked and salted my hand again.  His words replayed in my head.  Wait, what?  I could feel a blush stealing over my face, but I am so going to pretend that it’s just the tequila turning me pink!  I snatched the next shot out of his hand and threw it back, picking up a lime and biting into the sour flesh.  A shiver ran up my spine, as my mouth puckered.  I watched with a grin of my own as Tom did the same, slapping his empty shot glass down on the table with an exhilarated laugh.

I sat back laughing at his laugh, my head already feeling a bit light.

I snagged the chocolate bar and tore the wrapper open, breaking and plucking a square away.  I held it out to him, between finger and thumb.  

"I dare you…“ tilting my head up and squinting at him in challenge.  His grin broadened and he captured my wrist, pulling my hand to his mouth and nipping the chocolate away.

"Mmm.” he mumbled as he chewed, his eyes closed, still holding my wrist.

Shit.  Okay…  I tugged at my hand.  His eyes opened. 

"Needs salt.“ he declared.  Christ.  He pulled my hand closer, licked it and sprinkled salt onto the moist spot, then he fucking swiped his tongue over my hand, licking up the salt as he watched my face from under his brow, as my breath caught.

I yanked my hand back into my lap, feeling the smile slide off my face.  Is he…?  I feel tears begin to puddle in my eyes.  I push myself to my feet, looking down at him, and swallow hard.

"Don’t play with me, Tom.  I’m not in the mood.”  I start to turn away, but he reaches out, catches my hand, and stops me, looking up at me seriously.

“I’m sorry, Ellie.” he said quietly.  "Please forgive me.“  He tugged me back into my seat.  I sat staring at my fists in my lap.

He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into a hug.  "I’m really very sorry, darling.  I didn’t mean to… I forgot myself for a moment there.  It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Now I don’t know what to feel.  God, I am so fucked…

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 After a minute, ok-two minutes, I pulled myself from his hug.  Damn he’s good at those.  Standing, I muttered something about needing the loo, and escaped for a moment to try to pull my shit together.  I…don’t have any idea what to feel: freaked out (yep), lost (yep), a little turned on (yep), guilty (yep), humiliated (yep).  I don’t know how one person can have all these emotions all at once.

Maybe I just need to go ahead and wear my crazy hat for a bit.  Seriously, how fucking much is one person supposed to take?  I can’t even think about James without tearing up. Christ, we’ve only just broken up.  

Then Tom flirted with me, and for a moment I enjoyed it.  Maybe I really am the slut James called me.  Maybe Tom did that because HE thinks that’s the kind of girl I am.  The kind of girl who jumps from one man to another with barely a pause for breath…well, fuck!  I glare at myself in the mirror.  Maybe I am!  What of it?  Who cares?  My shoulders slump, and I sigh.  

I do.  I care.  That’s not who I am, even though I’d give a lot to be able to walk away from James without a care in the world.  God damn it.

There’s a tap on the door.  "Ellie?  Alright, love?“  Taking a deep breath, I yank the door open with a ferocious scowl.

"Damn, Hiddleston!  You’re like a cat, aren’t you?  Can’t bear to see a closed door without wanting to see on the other side of it, can you?”  Tom takes a hasty step back.  His face is a picture, surprise and confusion written on it.  His eyes narrowed a fraction as I brushed past him.

Fake it ‘til I make it, right?  I’m just going to pretend that moment never happened.  Tom can think whatever the fuck he wants of me.  I’m never going to see him again, once I get home, so why worry?  I’m just a momentary diversion for him.  So, I’ll be diverting.

Reclaiming my spot on the sofa, I poured another two shots, downing one, and snatching the other out from under his fingers, downing that as well.  I grinned up at him, and stuck out my tongue.

“Bratty little thing, aren’t you?” he laughed.  "Careful darling, tequila bites back!  Oi!“  He grabbed the bottle away from me.  "Leave some for me!”

I huffed and slouched back, crossing my arms.  "Pfft!  Fine!“  I waved a hand regally at him.  "Tell me story, Mr. Actor-man.  Tell me about your Henry V gig.”  I demanded. 

Softening, I said, “Seriously, Tom, that was a brilliant production.  Did Jeremy Irons really hit you?”

Tom laughed, pouring himself another.  "Yes, he really did!  Although not as hard as it looked!“  Tom then regaled me with the story of shooting that scene, and how Jeremy kept insisting on another take.  The whole damn crew was in on the joke, finding excuse after excuse for more takes.  He told me that in the end, it was Jeremy that called a halt, saying his hand was getting sore. I giggled.

Tom’s quite a good storyteller, funny and self-deprecating.  Of course anyone would agree, given that he was plying his audience with chocolate.

"Now you tell me a story, darling.  How did you get into kitchen design?  Was your Dad in the business?”  He settled back and looked at me with interest.

I snorted.  "Nope, that was all me.  I dare say Dad would have been appalled to know that I work with my hands…“

"I wouldn’t think that designing is 'working with you hands’, darling,” he challenged me.

“It’s not all pretty pencils and paper, you know!  I do a lot of custom handwork, woodworking and cabinetry.  Anyway, I’m sure it would all be too gritty for Dad.  But he’s not my problem anymore.”

Tom asked me what I meant, so I told him the whole sordid tale.  Hey, I’m drunk, I get talkative.  And I’m being diverting, right?  I told him how Dad had taken off, left Mum and me when I was eleven.  How we’d rubbed along just fine until Mum got sick when I was fourteen, and I’d done my best to care for her until she died two years later.  About going to live with Aunt Patricia, her four sons and her husband.  

Emphasis on 'hers’.  It took me awhile, but I finally figured out that she didn’t so much dislike me, as dislike having another female in the house.  She was the Queen Bee in her house, and that’s the way she liked it.  She certainly didn’t have time for some raggedy-arse, skinny little girl orphan.  But she did her duty, by God, sheltering and feeding me. 

Along with picking me half to death.   
   
Tom’s voice rumbled through his chest into my ear as he asked another question.  At some point during my narrative, he’d pulled me against his chest and wrapped me in his arms.

“No, I had no one else.  Bad as it was, at least Dad didn’t turn up.  That would have been an unmitigated disaster.”  I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“How bad was it?” he asked sharply.  "Those boy cousins…?“

"It’s just, Aunt Patricia disliked having another female around so much that she basically forced me not to look like a girl.  She’d ride me unmercifully if I wore a skirt or anything the least form fitting, or if I put a bit of mascara on.  If I had a penny for every time she told me I looked like a tart, or accused me of flirting with her boys… I soon learned to keep to old loose blue jeans and big slouchy tee shirts.  I pretty much looked like a 13 year old boy anyway, short, flat, and skinny.  Just one of the boys.  

The oldest, Trevor, moved out a couple of weeks after I moved in, and I was given his room.  Before that I was sleeping on the sofa.  I’m sure she’d never have given me his room if she hadn’t got tired of having a weeping misery in her lounge all the time.  I was a mess.  Anyway, the next oldest, Peter, never had much to do with me at all, outside of sneering at me occasionally for breathing his air.  

Will, the second youngest, used to tease me.  It was pretty awful for awhile, but then I’d never experienced living with siblings, and after a bit I realized he was just treating me like another brother.  Will once beat up an arsehole at school for harassing me…”  I smiled.  "He’s the one who made me start taking self defense lessons."

“What about the youngest boy?” Tom asked. I concentrated on keeping my breathing even.  I don’t talk about Michael.  Ever.  I shrugged.  Tom tugged my chin around to look into my face.  One glance at his concerned, kind blue eyes, and I looked away.   
   
“Not much.  Michael was a year younger than I.  We didn’t cross paths much.”  I shrugged again.

“Ellie.  Why did you just lie to me?”

I struggled to sit up.  Fuck no!  I’m not talking about Michael, or anything to do with him.  Tom’s arms turned to iron around me, and I started to struggle in earnest.  

"Tom!  Let me go!“

"No, Ellie.  Calm down, please.”  He continued to hold me, waiting me out.  Eventually it dawned on me that I wasn’t going to pry loose from him, unless I was willing to make a real effort to actually hurt him.  And I didn’t want to hurt him.  I’ve done enough.

“Ellie.  You don’t have to answer my question.  I’m not your Dom, to demand an answer.  I only ask that you don’t lie to me.”  He says this calmly into my curls.

After a moment struggling with my shame, I managed to choke out a response. 

“Yes, Tom.  Sorry.  I don’t talk about Michael.”  Taking a calming breath, I sat up slowly, and Tom let me.

Tom looked at me soberly.  I carefully watched my hands.  

"Did you at least get counseling?“  I snorted at the ludicrous question.  Yeah, right.

"I don’t talk about Michael, Tom.”  I said as flatly as possible.   
   
“It’s a simple yes or no question, Ellie.” he said quietly.  I clenched my teeth and pressed my lips together so tightly I could feel them go white with the pressure.  I am not stupid enough to talk about Michael, ever.  To anyone.  Fucking counselors included.  I reached over and poured another shot.

Tom got up and wandered over to his iPod dock, and started some low music, coming back and holding his hand out to me.  I eyed it warily. 

 "Come on, love, it’s just a dance.  You don’t want to talk, we don’t have to talk.“

I tentatively reached out and he grasped my hand and pulled me up.  The room spun a bit.  Maybe that last shot wasn’t such a good idea.  But Tom steadied me.  I’m a crap dancer, but fortunately Tom wasn’t asking much.  He just moved us in a gentle sway.  But even that became too much.  That last shot definitely was a bad idea, and my stomach began to churn as the room started to cha-cha.  Or it might have been a rhumba.  Oh god.

“Tom…” I croaked. He pulled away and looked at my face.  

"Whoops!  You’re green, love!“  The room spun again as he scooped me up and strode into the loo, depositing me by the toilet.  I’d have died of embarrassment right then, if my stomach hadn’t decided to get the first word in.  Fuck, I hate vomiting.  

I slid to my knees and did what you do when you’ve stupidly had too much to drink. But, hey, Tom’s not flirting with me or asking about Michael, so I guess it’s some kind of victory, right? I could feel Tom gather my hair back from my face, but I was too occupied to tell him to get out, as I so desperately wanted.  God.  Over and over, my stomach wrung itself out, leaving me dizzy and gasping, tears and snot pouring down my face.  Charming.  Ugh.

Eventually the torment slowed and stopped.  I deserved that.  I became aware that Tom was rubbing my back and talking quietly.  I also became aware of a growing need to pee.  I started to push myself up, but Tom easily kept me there. "Give it a mo’, darling.”  He handed me a glass of cold tap water, directing me to rinse and spit as calmly as if he did this for idiots every day.  

I did as he bid, but Christ, I was going to start jiggling and crossing my legs any second.  I feebly pushed him toward the door.

“Tom, please…thanks for your help, but just go, will you?  I’m ok now…”  I might have been more believable if I’d been capable of standing straight, but god, I had to pee!  I struggled to get up again.  I nearly whimpered. My belly is still cramping, but there’s nothing left.

"Please, Tom, get out!  I need to pee!“  Tom doesn’t turn a hair.  

"Alright.”  And he lifts me to my feet, steadying me with one hand as he reaches for my waistband with the other.

“Fucking hell, no!  I’m not peeing in front of you!” I slur, and then I begin to swear for real, calling him every name in my repertoire, I think, as I wriggled and pushed his hands away.  I’m about two seconds from trying to break his fingers when he gives an exasperated huff, yanks my pants down, and plants me firmly on the seat.  He steps away, regarding me a moment to be sure I’m not going to fall off, and then turns and steps out, snapping the door shut.  

With himself on the other side, thank you baby Jesus!  Damn, the relief!  I never thought I could enjoy a pee, but holy hell.  I moaned as I leaned my head against the wall next to me, and drifted for just a minute.

***

I gradually became aware of the pounding in my head.  I lifted a hand sluggishly to drape over my forehead, needing to muffle the thumping, but the touch of my hand on the skin there seared. I moaned my discomfort, and immediately became aware of the arid state of my throat and the foul taste in my mouth.  I tried to work up some saliva, but discovered that one must have spit to make spit, and it was a freaking desert in there.

Whimpering, I rolled my head, knowing that I need to find a source of moisture.  When had this pillow turned into a goddamn rock?  Blinking my eyes open in the thankfully dim room, I found that the desert sand had invaded my eyes, which were so dry and gritty that it took me long moments to realize I was staring at a bottle of water on the nightstand next to my bed. I wanted it.  I wanted it so bad.  If I’d ever had any telekinetic powers, they surely would have manifested in that moment of sheer need.  In fact, I wanted that water so bad, I was vaguely surprised that the bottle didn’t leap to my hand.  I had to take a moment to get over my disappointment.

 

Groaning with the movement, I reach for the magical bottle of water.  I know it’s magical because it wasn’t there when I fell into bed.  I guess 'fell’ is the right word.  Details of last night start drifting to the surface with each gulp of the life saving water.  By the time I’ve finished the water, I’m wishing it were deadly instead of life saving, because my clearest last memory of last night is of Tom… Tom, holding my hair.  Oh fucking hell.  Kneeling over me, holding my hair and rubbing a hand up and down my back as I retched, and sniveled, and vomited my guts up.  Christ, just shoot me now.  I squeeze my eyes shut.  I wonder, if I creep out without him seeing me, will he forget it ever happened?  Unlikely.  I snort.  Mr. Steel-trap mind ain’t never going to forget.

I wait a few more moments to make sure the water is going to stay down.  The snakes roiling in my gut must have been thirsty too, because the water stays put.  Can I just keep lying here for the next week?  Please?

Nope.  My overfull bladder makes it’s presence known in an urgent way. I manage to stagger upright, although the blanket makes a concerted effort to tangle my feet up and throw me to the floor.  I creep shakily to the door and pull it open a bit, sticking my head out to see if the coast is clear.  Whatever other idiocies I may have committed last night, I’m not compounding them by running into Tom in the hallway looking like, like I’ve been wrassling a rhinoceros…. No doubt smelling like one, too.

Listening as closely as I can over the percussionists banging away in my head, I hear no signs of other animate beings, so I creep down the hall, hugging the wall to the bath. Oh, for a shower and to scrub this scum out of my mouth…

I find another magical bottle of water on the sink vanity, and holy of holies, a bottle of paracetamol.  Tom clearly has an excellent relationship with his house Brownies.  Mine just hide shit.  I stop myself from greedily swallowing an entire handful of the tablets, and pick out a sedate two…ok, three, and not only do I manage to swallow them, but I manage to put the rest back in their bottle without spilling them all over the floor with my trembling hands.

Fuck, I feel awful.  My head is pounding, my eyes are gritty, there’s something furry and dead in my mouth, and everything below my boobs hurts.  Nothing like a good bout of vomiting to make you rediscover every one of your sadly neglected abdominal muscles…

I manage to slide my knickers down without falling over, and to sit on the loo without falling off.  Score!  Take my victories where I can.  Can I go back to bed, now?

I realise that once more I have awoken in Tom’s house wearing different and fewer clothes.  How the fuck does he do that ?!  I pry my eyes open and peer down at my feet.  I even have socks on, which is an un-looked for blessing, as my feet are usually icy.  My eyes snag on my knickers around my knees.  There’s something….

“Are you fucking kidding me??!”   I screech.  There’s, oh god, a pad in my knickers, and yep, there is blood.  And I didn’t put it there!  Well, I assume that the blood is mine, but I damn sure don’t remember any goddamn pad!  Well, shit!  No wonder my belly hurts…

What rabbit hole have I fallen down? Not only did Mr. Magic hold my hair while I vomited, but he evidently stripped me, cleaned me, padded me (Christ!), dressed me and put me to bed, all while I was, ahem, non compos mentos.  And he made sure I had water and medication to hand when I woke.  Quite honestly, I don’t know if this is the creepiest thing ever, or the sweetest…

Fortunately it’s not a question that I have to resolve at the moment.  Showering and scrubbing my teeth are what I have to do right now.  Well, that and change my pad.  I pull open the drawers of the vanity, and sure enough, there’s a box of pads in the bottom drawer, and, fuck me, there’s an unopened box of tampons as well.  Oh yay.  

Seriously, what kind of guy keeps sanitary supplies in his bachelor pad?  I supposed I can be grateful that he hadn’t made any effort to insert…  Christ on a crutch, I can’t even. 

I’m not gonna think about it.  Great, now I’m thinking like Scarlett O'Hara.  Yeah well, maybe she was onto something.  I do what’s necessary, start the shower and climb into the blessed hot stream.

After a long hot scrub, I did the best I could to finger comb through my wet, curly mop, but there’s only so much I can do without proper grooming tools.  I sigh, finding myself once more staring at myself in Tom Hiddleston’s bathroom mirror.  Seriously, whose life is this?  I halfway expect a grinning Cheshire cat to materialize over my shoulder in the looking glass.  

Maybe it’s something I ate, and the whole of the last two days has been a hallucination?  Gah!  I look like I got dragged backwards through a hedgerow.

Dressing, I peer out the door once more, listening intently.  I still hear no sounds of occupation, so I make my way downstairs to the morgue.  I mean kitchen.  Although, given my state…

Tea is already set up, all I have to do is wait for the kettle to boil.  There’s a small jar on the counter, with a sticky note, saying “Drink me”.  Jesus, what’s with all the Alice in Wonderland imagery this morning?   I’m not touching that shit.  I open the fridge to get the milk out, and there’s another sticky note on it.  

"Don’t be such a baby!  Drink it.  It tastes horrible, but it’ll help.“  Slamming the milk on the counter, I contemplate the jar.  Oh, fine.  I hold my nose and gulp it down.  It doesn’t just taste horrible, it tastes like shit!  

Now if it will only stay down…I stand, staring out the small window blankly, waiting for the mixture to decide if it’s going to stay down, braiding my hair back by feel and searching his cupboard drawers for something with which to tie the plait.  

Finding his jumble drawer, I search through the paper clips, twist ties, pencil stubs, take-away menus, and old grocery lists, finally unearthing a handful of elastics at the back. 

The kettle starts to sing,- Jesus kill me now- so I make my tea, waiting impatiently for it to steep.  Sitting with my tea at the island, I close my eyes and begin to make plans for my escape off home.  God, so much to do.  Today is going to be awful.  

Start with a hangover, although that’s fading thanks to the water, meds and tea (not his jar of what-the-fuck-is-it).  And I can feel a twinge of cramps low in my belly. 

Then there’s clearing my flat of all trace of James.  Fuck.  I get to go through all my toys and toss the ones James brought me.  That’s not going to drag up any memories at all…  Shame though.  I guess you can’t really recycle sex toys.  Ewww.  Yeah, no.

I hear the front door bang shut, and a moment later Tom bounces into the kitchen wearing running clothes and pulling earbuds out of his ears, heading to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.  He pulls out the water, twists the cap off and takes a long swallow.  God, watching his Adam’s apple moving under the skin of that long neck.  And, oh yay, he pulls the hem of his tee up to wipe the sweat from his face.  Yep, it’s time to get back to my real life.

"You know, Tom, if you ever get murdered it’s going to be for just this reason.  Bouncing around, being all happy and shit, while those around you suffer the consequences of getting drunk with you?  Not cool, dude.”  He smirked at me, the bastard.

Tom brought his bottle of water, sat on the stool next to me, and bumped my shoulder with his.  

"How are you feeling this morning, darling?  You look a bit worse for wear.“

"Thanks, too much, Thomas.  Every hungover girl needs a reminder of how awful she looks.  If it weren’t for you, why, I might not have noticed.” I grumble at him.

He chuckled.  "Not my fault you think you can drink with the big boys…“

I want to slap that smug grin right off his very pretty face.  I thunk my head onto the countertop.  Ow.  

"Fuck you, Hiddleston.” I groused.  He smirked at me again.  Asshole.

“And that’s another thing!  What the hell did you do to me last night, Hiddleston?  It’s one thing to ply me with tequila shots and dig out my life story, but for real?  That makes it ok for you to get so, so personal with my, um…person??”

“Darling, I’ve seen the half digested contents of your stomach, there isn’t much more personal than that!”

“Yeah, there is Hiddleston, and you managed to find it, didn’t you?  Good god, man, have you no boundaries?”

He shrugged.  "It needed to be done.  You were in no state, so I took care of you.“ He shrugged again.  "It’s all good.”  

He reached past me and poured out a mug of tea for himself, as I sat there gaping.  Goddammit!

I imagine plucking the mug out of his hand, setting it down, reaching up and grabbing a handful of hair, dragging his head down to stare intimidatingly into his eyes.  If I only had the balls.  
   
“Seriously?!”

He grinned at me.  "Seriously.“  He picked up his tea, dropped a kiss on the top of my head, and sauntered out of the kitchen, sipping it.

"What the hell planet are you from, Hiddleston??” I called after him.  
   
I got no answer but a low chuckle..

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Tom had called a locksmith, and I had to be home by 10 o'clock for that.  He insisted on driving me home.  I know I should have been grateful, but dammit!  I felt like shit, and I had a shitty job in front me.  And I’m a little ashamed of myself,- ok, a lot- getting puking drunk in front of Tom.  When we pulled up outside my flat Tom turned and wrapped long arms around me.

“Chin up, ducks.  You’ll be alright.  The longest journey begins with a single step, and you’ve already taken it.  It’ll get better.”

“Easy for you to say…” I heaved a sigh.  "Yeah, you’re right.  I’m sorry Tom.   You’ve been so good to me…“

"Hush.  It was my privilege.”

I pulled my head back and eyed him.  "You’ve got a very strange sense of ‘privilege’ then!  Seriously, Tom, I have no idea where I’d be if you hadn’t decided to pick up the crazy lady, so thank you.“  I paused, looking him over.  "You, though… I still don’t know what the hell’s the matter with you…”  I gave him a half smile.  He chuckled.

“So, so many things…” he said, shaking his head ruefully.

He gave me a stern admonition to call if James showed up, ordering me to put the chain on the door, just in case.  I’m not afraid of James, though.  Only of myself…  

He walked me to my door, taking my keys out of my hand and unlocking it.  After a quick reconnoiter, to make sure James wasn’t lurking, he left with a last kiss on my forehead, and a reminder that he’d call later.  I shut the door behind him, and leaned on it a moment. The quick rap on the door at my back startled me.  

"Chain the door, Ellie!“  came through loud and clear.  "Yes, mother!” I slipped the chain on.  Jeez.

“Good girl…” came faintly through the door, his voice quieter and deeper than a moment ago.  His steps moved off, and he was gone.  My gallant stalwart against my pain and devastation.  I rolled my eyes at my florid description, but it was true, nonetheless.  
   
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to impose calm on my churning guts.  I looked around my flat, not really seeing it, watching memories of James unfold on the stage of my flat.  Ok.  This is going to be fucking hard.

I shook my head to shove the memories away.  I’ve got to get some distance, some fucking perspective before I’m ready to tackle that shit.  A good hot cuppa will help.  Mum always said so.

I made the tea while I thought about what I needed to do.  Besides crying.  I plugged my mobile in to charge and checked my messages.  None from James.  Thank god.  I delete his number and block it just in case.  Bastard.  Honestly, I don’t know whether I’m relieved that he hasn’t tried calling, or maybe just sad.  Maybe a little bit angry.  But I’m not surprised.

The locksmith will be here soon.  After that…  I need to clear up whatever James has left behind him.  There really isn’t much personal stuff.  His shampoo and shower gel is all, really.  I’m definitely pitching that in the rubbish.  The last thing I need is his smell lingering in my bath, in my head.  And the toys he bought for me.  Or more accurately, bought for him to use on me.  A violent shiver runs down my spine at a sudden thought.

I turned and bolted into my bedroom, fetching up at my dresser.  There was one thing I wanted, needed to do first.  Had to do.  I yanked out the top drawer of my dresser and pawed through my knickers, searching out the implement that James had insisted on keeping there.  The one that I tried to avoid seeing, tried to pretend wasn’t there.  My scrabbling fingers found its hard surface and pulled it free of the clinging bits of silk and lace.  

I held it up and looked at it, the vicious wooden-backed hair brush that James had used to punish me.

I let myself think about one particular memory that still festered and burned.  James had once punished me for being ill, raging at me for not being more careful with my health, for allowing myself to be around 'contagious disease vectors’.  Otherwise known as my best friend and business partner, Sharon.  

She’d had a flu, and I spent a few days looking after her, taking her to the doctor, dosing her with fever meds and chicken soup.  Just the simple things one does for a loved one who is ill.  And then, naturally, I came down with it.  It truly was a miserable week.

On the second evening of my illness I’d dragged myself shivering out of my sickbed to answer the insistently ringing doorbell.  James stood on my doorstep.  He took one look at me and stepped back.

“You’re sick.” he said accusingly.

“Flu…” I croaked at him. He’d looked at me with fury and disgust, turned on his heel and left without another word.  

That hurt, so much.  I’d gone back to bed and cried myself to sleep, so, so miserable, feeling so sick, so unloved, so unlovable.

And then.  A week or so after I’d recovered, James reappeared.  He’d proceeded to berate me for disrupting his plans that night, ranted at me about seeing to it that I stayed healthy and available to him, how I had no right to inconvenience him.   

And then he’d got out this nasty hair brush, bent me over a chair and beaten my arse unmercifully for my 'lack of judgment’ in putting someone else’s needs above his.  It was one of the few times I had been sincerely angry at him, though I kept my mouth shut for fear of provoking him further.  I hadn’t needed his instruction not to come when he’d fucked me after my punishment.  I’d never felt less like coming…

My hands gripped the hairbrush so hard my fingers started to cramp around it, as I recalled that episode.  He’d had me halfway to believing that I’d got sick deliberately.  I’d had black and blue bruises on my arse for more than a week after that, barely able to bend or sit for days.  Because I had cared for a sick friend and inconvenienced him.  Even now, the memory makes me tear up- with rage, at the injustice of it all.  At his abandonment while I was sick.  That I was stupid enough to let him back into my life after his utter lack of care for me.

I realise it was more than that now.  He’d always denigrated my friends, Sharon in particular, even though he’d never even met her.  Not that I had a lot of friends, especially after James appeared in my life.  Now I come to think of it, I’m rather ashamed that I’d abandoned them. And not just so I could spend time with James, oh no, but so I could spend my time fucking waiting around just in case James showed up.  God.  What a useless excuse for a woman I am.

I set the hairbrush down on the kitchen table while I made my tea, and then sat and stared at it while I sipped at the hot comfort.  If I’d had a fireplace, I would have gladly watched that goddamn thing burn to ashes.  Somehow this innocuous bit of wood and bristles has come to symbolize everything that was wrong with James, everything that was wrong with me, everything that was wrong about our relationship.  I needed to devise a truly wicked destruction for this hated thing.

Contemplating it, I realised that I had believed, as James had never struck me with a closed fist, or struck me in the face, that he wasn’t really beating me, abusing me.  God, I’m such a fucking idiot.  So many images of James 'punishing’ me marched across my minds eye.  His furious face, red with anger, damp with the exertion of punishing me, his self righteous voice telling me that I deserved to be punished for things that I really and truly hadn’t done, or things I hadn’t had any control over.  I was never good enough for him.  Never good enough.  Not even good enough to keep for himself…

I had loved him spanking me with his hands.  There was something so intimate, and even comforting about him using his hands on my bottom.  Something a little thrilling knowing that whatever pain he was delivering to me, he was feeling it, sharing my pain in his own hand.  That sharing somehow turned the whole thing so erotic.

And I'd believed him when he said he was helping me be better. 

But I had hated, hated, any time he had used anything but his hands.  And if I’d had one, I certainly would have used a safeword to stop him.  Wouldn’t I?  I have to be honest with myself, at the very least: I don’t know.  

Because punishment?  Has a reason, an expectation of correction, right?  Break a rule, get punished for it, never do it again.  Pretty cut and dried.  But a 'beating’ is nonsensical. There often was nothing I did wrong, nothing I could fix, no way to avoid it.  It was just about him relieving his anger, his need to lash out, his need to hurt something, break something.  And I became the 'something’.  His goal was not to correct me, or to teach me.  It was simply to make me cry, to make me as miserable as he was. Why the fuck didn’t I get that before??

The thing was, it never worked.  Beating on me never made him feel better, that I could tell.  But he did, at least, invariably care for me and soothe me after.  One thing about James, he always, always washed me gently and put me to bed before he left.

Well.  I guess I’ve found something else that I might have used a safeword for.  Maybe I should start a list…  Finishing my tea, I remember that Tom had directed me to spend some time online looking up information about  D/s relationships, and BDSM generally. I can start that this afternoon.

Later.  For now I left the hairbrush on the table and turned to my other tasks.  The doorbell went.  It was the locksmith that Tom had arranged for me, come to change the locks.  To keep James out.  My eyes wanted to well up again, but fuck that.  
   
I sniffed the tears back firmly and made small talk with the locksmith, laughing with him over his tale of his little daughter locking herself in the loo accidentally, and his complete panic and fumble fingers trying to get the door unlocked while his baby screamed blue murder on the other side.  

He was very kind, probably having seen my red, swollen eyes, offering suggestions for other security measures.  I thanked him, but when I tried to pay him, he refused, insisting that the bloke who had called him had pre-paid, and upgraded me to stronger locks.  I’ll deal with Mr. Magic Hiddleston later, too…

I spent most of the rest of the morning clearing up.  I had left the place in such a tip, out of nerves before my disastrous date, and I had to dig around a bit to find all of James’ crap.  He used to like to stash various toys around my flat like surprises, to have them ready to hand.  There wasn’t anything of value, so it all went straight into the rubbish.  

Except for the hairbrush. I sighed.  I’m really going to have to figure out whether to move house or not.  Get a place clean of memories of him.  Maybe get a flat with a fireplace just to burn the accursed hair brush.

But I’m definitely going to buy a new bed, I thought, as I pulled the sheets off and bundled them with the pillowcases to wash.  I fetched a clean set, and a different blanket for good measure, but stood staring at the bed, lost in thought and indecision for a good bit.  James had never actually slept in this bed.  But the things he had done here…  

The things we had done.  God.  Some of those images flashed through my head.  I could feel myself reflexively getting wet, and a shiver went up my spine.  When it was good with James, it was very, very good.  

It was then my eyes filled with tears that wouldn’t stop.  I sat on the edge of my bare, lonely bed and cried.  I cried because even after recognising how awful it sometimes was to be with him, I still loved him.  I cried because I was going to miss the mind-meltingly good sex, sure I was never going to find that again.  I cried because the future I had dreamed of with James would never happen, and because it never could have happened. 

I cried because James had betrayed me so very badly.  I cried because we hadn’t laughed more together.  I cried because, despite it all, I felt sorry for James, for how fucked up he is that he doesn’t even realise that he’s so fucked up.  I think there will always be a piece of me that wishes I could have comforted him.  And a piece of me that wishes I had been good enough for him.  I cried for that, too.

I went and took some more paracetamol, and had another shower.  By the time I finished, I did feel a little better.  Tired, but not as overwhelmed.  Guess I got lucky this month, not to have to spend the first day of my period wrapped around my heating pad.  Today, I’m taking my small victories where I can.   
   
I dressed and stood looking at my bed again.  Even with clean sheets, I know it will still smell of his cologne.  I decide to flip the mattress, so I push and shove it off the box springs, but no matter how I maneuver the thing, I can’t turn it by myself.  Crap on toast.  Maybe I’ll just sleep on the sofa for the time being…

***

Staring into my laptop screen, I’m stunned.  The amount of information on BDSM and D/s relationships is overwhelming.  Who knew?  Well, I guess Tom knew.  He’s the one who gave me the damn homework, after all.  

Shit. I can’t believe I let James discourage me from this.  He’d said he didn’t want me filling my head with erroneous information and unrealistic expectations. What kind of idiot am I?  A fucking big one, I guess.  For gods sakes, there are how-to manuals, explanations of different activities and relationships, even checklists of likes and limits to fill out and give to potential partners!  

God, I can’t believe I was so fucking naïve. I just let James string me along, without having any real understanding about what I was getting into.

These lists, though.  Hard limits?  I could have told James at the beginning what I wanted, and what I absolutely did not want?  Hmmm.  Actually, I suppose not.  Given that he was less than honest with me, how likely is it that he’d have respected a safeword, or a hard limit?  Of course, if I’d known about all this, I might have had some chance of discovering James’ dishonesty before I got so invested in him. Before I fell in love with a man who never existed. Fuck.

There’s just so freaking much!  And I’ve no idea what half this stuff IS!  This checklist has space for 'yes’, 'no’, 'soft limit’, and 'hard limit’, but no space for 'what the fuck is it?’ !    
I mean, I know everybody is different, and they all have different tastes.  And that’s really ok with me.  I don’t care if someone likes a different flavor ice cream than I do, so long as they don’t try to force me to eat it.  Seriously, knock yourself out with licorice ice cream if you want to!  It’s all good.  But personally, I hate licorice.  I have an opinion about licorice.  I think it tastes icky.  Your mileage may vary.

But the half of the list that I do understand?  Half of what’s left fucking terrifies, horrifies, or nauseates me. Biting, beating, bestiality, branding, brown showers?  And that’s just the B’s!  

Biting… That was 'kill me now’ pain, definitely not 'ooh, baby, do it again!“  NEVER AGAIN.

So that only leaves a tiny fraction of the list that I’ve either done and enjoyed, or might be willing to try.  Blindfolds?  Sure!  Hair Pulling?  You mean people have sex without hair pulling? Why?  People are weird.  

Bondage?  Love being tied up!  Teasing?  Oh, yeah.  Sensory play?  Double oh yeah.  Spanking?  Yes please.  Group play?  With my knowledge and consent beforehand this time?    
If I knew all the participants and consented ahead of time?  Maybe.  Role playing?  Like, play acting?  

My mind side tracked for a moment, freaking me out.  What, I mused, might role playing be like with Tom freaking Hiddleston?  

Crap.  I think I broke my brain.  Fucking, fuck.  What would …?  Nope.  Nope.  Nope.  Not going there anymore.  A chill ran down my back.  Back to my homework.  The 'Professor’ is off limits…  Oh, fuck. me.

So, I guess I really have to figure out my hard limits.  I chew my lip in thought.  Keeping an actual list is obviously the way to go.  But as I look back at the list on the screen, I realise.  It won’t be any kind of comprehensive list.  I know I’ll discover more hard limits as I learn more. Maybe some that aren't so hard after all. That’s a little scary.  Ok, a lot scary.  I rattle my fingernails over the desk as I think.

Right up at the top has to be Dishonesty.   After this experience with James, I don’t know if I’ll ever even want to date again.  Never mind find a new Dom.  Or give them my trust.  I’m probably wasting my time even figuring out my hard limits.  I’ll probably never have sex again, anyway…

Yeah, yeah.  Just in case… And because I know Tom will fucking ask me if I’ve done it.

No scarring.  Nothing that pierces my body, breaks my skin, or causes severe bruising. No publicly visible marks.  No severe pain.  I shiver, cold fingers running up my spine. When James bit me…

No medical procedures.  No enemas, speculums, catheterization, etc.  Mum had ovarian cancer.  I saw my Mum through some horrific procedures and treatments before she died.   No more.  Please, no more.

No excrement.  I wonder how common that is.  I guess I really don’t want to know.

No anal anything.   Michael… No.  Thank god James had never had any interest.

Degradation.  It ought to be fucking easy by now, I ought to be used to it.  But no.  NEVER again.  Call me a whore or a fucktoy and I am SO gone.  If someone wants a fucktoy, there are plenty available for sale, right here on this page.  I’m not a toy, dammit, I’m a real girl!  Hard limit for sure.  James has entirely used up my ability to be that for anyone, ever.  Again, I have to wonder if he’s ruined me for any other Dom…

God.  The word 'slut’ is so loaded for me.  I can’t even.  That word is contempt and criticism, disrespect and rejection, all rolled into one.  This whole idea that what I have to give is dirty, not precious, is so fucking devastating.  My trust, my Self, my body, my love-- dirty and not good enough.  Why would anyone want that?  I’ve been called that by someone I loved, and been devastated to find that was exactly what he thought of me. 

There is no naughty thrill there for me, only pain.  And besides all that, it’s so fucking schizophrenic of him to shame me for being aroused by the wonderful things he’s doing to me.  I mean, isn’t my arousal proof that he’s a proficient lover?  Why would he be disgusted by proof that I get off on him?

In my experience, James never called me those names in a funny or endearing way.  They were always hurled at me with utmost contempt.  And they fucking hurt, ok?  I tried so hard to just let those words slide off me, to not touch me.  But they never failed, when James used them, to convey disdain and scorn.  He expected and demanded that I be sexually aroused by him and the things that he did to me, but then he’d mock me and shame me for being aroused.  What the fuck is that?  

It’s such a contradiction, and so fucking confusing.  So bloody unfair.  The contempt in those words is breathtakingly dismissive.  Because nothing says "I care for you”, or “I respect you”, or even “I want to be with YOU” like calling me a filthy whore, right?  Dammit.  I can be your dirty girl, your good girl, or your naughty girl, but I’m not your fucking whore.  The fact that I enjoyed his sexual prowess should be taken as a complement, not a reason for his contempt.  I mean, right?

Sigh.  I guess this is one of those idiosyncratic dislikes.  I can see that some women get off on that, it's right here on the internet, but me?  Not so much.  Apparently, I have to respect me, because nobody else will.  And ain’t that the saddest fucking thing?  Hello, hard limit.

I don’t understand why it’s so hard to be loved.  Desired?  I get that.  There’s lots of men in the world who really just want a warm place to put their dicks.  And, hell, women who only want a dick.  Or whatever.  But why is it so hard to find 'The One’?  The One who will love me despite my flaws, the one I can give myself to and be appreciated for my surrender, my gift, not belittled and vilified?  Fuck.  Am I so very unloveable?

Another hard limit?  Inconsistency.  Oh yeah.  Don’t fucking punish me today for behaviour that you praised me for yesterday.  Don’t change the fucking rules without notice. Don’t make shit up to pin the fault on me to justify your bad mood. 

Life has jerked me around on this too many times.  I desperately need stability. That doesn’t mean that I’m not open to trying new things, far from it.  But my world changed radically on me so many times when I was younger.  I like rules, I need rules.  I will follow the rules, but I have to fucking know what they are!

No fantasy kidnappings, or rape.  It wouldn’t be safe.  For the Dom.  The thought that I could freak out and lose control again… No.

I wonder if this list of hard limits is going to just end up being a list of my failures and flaws.  There’s so much 'no’ and 'I can’t’ .  What does that make me?  What would this list look like to a Dom?  I wonder, if I ever get the nerve to actually hand this list over to a Dom, will I have to…explain myself?  I wish I could make that a hard limit…

I sit back from my computer.  I have a fucking headache, spearing behind my left eye.  It’s all too much.  Tears well in my eyes once again, simply from being so overwhelmed. I want to crawl under my bed and stay there for a week.  Oh, right, my bed is a mess.  Along with every other part of me… dammit.

Despair creeps over me.  I think I may be too Kinky to be Vanilla, and too Vanilla to be Kinky.  Will I ever be able to figure out what I want?  What I need?  What I AM?  Other than damaged. Has James ruined me for every other man, every other Dom?  Will I ever be able to trust again?  All my reactions are tuned to James, will I ever be able to please anyone else?

My phone rang.  I didn’t even bother to look to see who was calling.  I don’t want to talk to anyone.  Not while my head is so messed up.  I let it go to voicemail.

***

James.  I just…let him.  We never talked about… things.  He never asked, he just…did whatever he wanted with my body.  And mostly, it was good.  Brilliant.  Fucking amazing, even.  But we never once had a conversation about anything like my limits.   And whatever his limits were never entered into it, because I never initiated anything.  
   
I was very passive.  I never kissed him first, touched him first, never asked for anything, never objected to anything.  Well, except that one time.  But he had hurt me, really and truly, with fucking scars to prove it.  And he was so angry with me for my reaction, he left me for 2 weeks without a word.   
   
I was devastated.  Two weeks with nothing, my life felt so empty and dreary, berating myself for my stupidity, my selfishness.  The pain and fear of that one thing, monstrous as it was, had been so much easier to bear than this loss.  I was adrift.  I missed him with every piece of me, every moment of every day.  All the sunshine, all the excitement, all the happiness in my life went with him, and I was left with only cold, grey ash.  

In the end I had begun to consider the possibility that my life would never get better, that I would spend my life living with this loss, this guilt, every day, and I knew I couldn’t live for years like this.  I had started to think I’d be better off dead.

And then one night he was back, breezing in my door as if nothing had happened.  We never spoke of it, neither of us ever acknowledged either his hurting me so badly, or his leaving me.  I was so pitifully grateful to have him back in my life.

But, really, it was after he came back that things got bad.  It was some kind of turning point.  He began to berate me, to be so harsh toward me.  It’s no wonder he called me his fucktoy, I let him treat me that way.  I tried so hard to be perfect for him, so afraid that he’d leave me again, but I could never seem to make him happy.  There was always something that I said or did wrong.  I seemed to always be breaking his rules, but I never really knew what the rules were.

Well, that’s not quite true.  I did know what some of the rules were, and I followed them.  I did!  And we had some good days, some wonderful nights when he was relaxed and cheerful, and I would begin to hope things were getting better.

And then it would all come crashing down.  When he was angry, it was always something I’d done, or not done to his satisfaction.  Even when he had come in the door already clearly angry, he would find something, or invent some transgression.  And then I would be for it.

A few weeks ago, it all suddenly got better.  I figure that must be around the time he decided to share me with the odious William.  Suddenly he was sweet and patient, full of praise when I got something right, correcting me gently when I got it wrong.  Punishments became a nightmare of the past.  I fell in love with that James.  For almost a month my life was nearly perfect.

The damn phone rang again.  I just shut the thing off.  I’ve had all the fucking revelations I can stand right now.  I don’t want to hear about a late shipment of granite, or that Sharon’s cat is sick, or whatever.  I just don’t have anything left.  I drag my pillow and blanket with me to the lounge and fall onto the settee, pulling the blanket over my head and shutting out the world.

***

I blinked my eyes open and rubbed my face. What is that rapping?  Is that someone calling my name?  I stumble off the settee and stagger toward the door, yawning as I look out the peephole.  Tom.

Tom stepped past me into my flat, as I leaned behind him and pushed the door closed.  He kissed both my cheeks as I asked him how his day had been.  He straightened, still holding my elbow and regarded me.  His mouth was doing that thing again.  I could feel the smile slide off my face.  Had I done something wrong?  He’s only been here 30 seconds, how could I possibly have fucked up in that amount of time?

“Tom…?”

“Ellie, the chain wasn’t on the door.  Didn’t you promise me that you would use it?”  I shrugged, relieved.  Is that all?

“I’m fine, Tom.  Look,” I spread my hands and smiled, “I’m all in one piece, no harm done!”

He simply stood there looking at me, implacable and unamused.  I could feel a blush stealing over my cheeks.

“I’m very relieved you’re fine, darling.  But you made me a promise, didn’t you,” he said intently.  "I need to know that you are safe, and that you will take your safety as seriously as I do.  I also need to be able to trust that you will do what you say you’re going to do.“  I can hear that he’s trying to be calm.  My mouth opened but no words came out for a moment. 

"You didn’t answer your phone.  I was worried.”

“You’re worried about me?  But…”

“Of course I’m bloody worried about you!”  He grated out, his jaw tight, as he rubbed his forehead.  Taking a deep breath, he blew it out slowly.  "Ellie, you do realise that there’s someone out there,“ he gestured toward my door, "who is likely quite angry at you for leaving him? For disobeying him?  He no longer has keys to your place, but he does know where you live, darling.”  

He ducked his head to look up into my eyes, his hand running up and down my arm.  "I’m not your Dom, but I hope I’m your friend.  I want you to be safe.“

Well, shit!  Here I’d spent all day thinking about the many ways James had betrayed and fucking-well abused me, and never once took thought about what he might do next.  I guess I kind of assumed that James’ bruised pride would keep him away.  That he’d be so angry at my disobedience that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway. 

After all, hadn’t I given in to him so many times just to keep him from walking out on me?  But then Tom walked in and upset my fragile little apple-cart of denial.  Tom’s right. I shivered.

"I’m sorry, Tom.  I didn’t think… I’ll try to remember.”

“That’s all I ask, darling.”  He brushed my hair behind my ear and looked up.

"Why are your bedclothes here on the sofa?”  Tom asked curiously.  "Were you having a kip?“

"Um, yes.” I squirmed, “I just, I don’t really want to sleep in my bed because…well, you know.  I think it will be ok if I just flip the mattress, but…” I trailed off as Tom turned smartly toward my room.

“Bedroom down here?” he asked, his long stride moving him rapidly down the hall.

I scrambled after him.  "Yes.  But Tom, you don’t have to…“

"Of course I do, darling!  Let’s see.”  He stood in the doorway of my bedroom, surveying the mattress all catywampus, his hands on his hips. He snorted and cast me a sideways look.

“This is no problem.  Between the two of us, we can get this fixed in no time.  It just needs two sets of hands, Ellie…”  

He jerked his head at me to follow him into the room, stationing me at the side of the bed, directing me to let him do the lifting, my job just to stabilize the thing while he maneuvered it.

“Hang on, let me get this mattress cover off before we flip the thing…”  He reached up before I could stop him and pulled the cover off the mattress, revealing the red-brown stain that it had concealed.

Tom straightened abruptly, dropping the cover on the floor, and stared at the stain, his fingers reaching out to trace over it, measuring it, his jaw ticking repeatedly.  His eyes turned toward me.

“That’s blood, Ellie.  Near the footboard, not in the middle where you would sleep.”  He looked at me grimly, his eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation.  I looked away.  I don’t want to talk about it with, well, anyone.  But especially not with him.  It will only worry him more.  And me.

“Tell me, Ellie.” he says firmly.  I answered him.  Truthfully, but very briefly.

“James…hurt me.  That one time.  I’m fine.  That’s all I have to say about it, Tom.  And it’s part of why I want to flip the mattress.  So,” I plead, “if you don’t mind…?”  
He put his fingers under my chin, lifting it to look in my eyes searchingly.  His eyes softened at whatever he saw there.

“Alright, then.”  And without further interrogation, he helped me flip the awkward thing, and then insisted on helping me make up the bed with fresh sheets.  After giving my blue velvet duvet one last tweak, and running his hand over the soft nap, he followed me out of the room.

“Thank you, Tom.  It will be a relief to sleep in my own bed tonight, and not have to smell… I wasn’t looking forward to that damn sofa all night!”

“You’re very welcome.  You know, darling, there’s no shame in asking for help with a two man job.  Independence is all very well, but one must be sensible, don’t you agree?”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Tom draped his arm companionably over my shoulders as we walked around the park.  For lack of anything better to do with the arm trapped awkwardly between us, I wrapped it around him and hung my thumb through the belt loop of his blue jeans.  We strolled along in silence for several minutes.  Tom seemed pensive.

“Tell me how you ended up with James?” he demanded quietly.

“You mean aside from the fact that I was a stupid little naive virgin fat girl?….Actually, that’s pretty much it.”

Tom huffed in irritation.  "You really have to stop running yourself down that way, darling.  It’s annoying, and I’m sure it’s not true!“   
   
I opened my mouth to tell him I was there at the time, but he interrupted me.

"Now answer the question without all the self abuse.  How did you meet him?”

I took a breath and let it out slowly. “Crap.  Ok, fine…  Once upon a time, there was a skinny little kid who thought she was more than all that.  She thought she  could catch a falling granite countertop that weighed about three times more than she did.”  I started out in a sing song voice, thick with sarcasm and…  

Tom’s head snapped around, and he raised an eyebrow at me, somehow conveying censure of my tone, as well as a quiet demand to knock it the fuck off.  Or whatever the more genteel phrasing of Mr Hiddleston might be.  Ok.  I was kinda rude.  Sigh.  I scaled it back a bit.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and watched my feet slow and wander over the park path.  I drew a deep breath and began again.

“A-almost two years ago I was badly injured at a job site.  I ended up in hospital with a broken back.”  I heard his swift intake of breath, but he held his peace, so I went on.  
   
“It… was weeks before they were sure I would walk again.  I got very lucky, although I was bloody fed to the teeth about it at the time.  It was another three months before I actually was walking again, and longer to manage without walkers or canes.  In the meantime, I gained a vast amount of weight.  I put on about four stone in that year.  Food and books were really my only comfort.”  I sighed, remembering.  
   
“When I was discharged, I continued with outpatient physical therapy, and eventually one of the things I had to do was lose the weight I’d gained.  I took up walking the park every day, because, you know,…I could.  Eventually I tried to progress to running”  I looked down at my chest ruefully.  "That didn’t work out terribly well for me, for obvious reasons.“

Tom looked puzzled.  "Weren’t you sufficiently recovered ?”

“Well, yeah, but before I was injured and put the weight on, I didn’t have all this,” I gestured down at my chest. “…um, excess boobage.  I didn’t have any experience trying to run with all this jiggling around with every step.  So there I was, huffing and puffing my way around the park, sweating like a rhinoceros, red as a.., well, a red rhinoceros, trying to hang onto my tits and not give myself a freakin’ black eye…”  Tom choked a bit at the imagery.  "When I finally had to admit that running wasn’t going to be something that I wanted to do every day, or ever, I stopped to recover my breath.  I may or may not have been pretty blatantly massaging my boobs and swearing loudly between gasping breaths…   
   
Any way, I was over-heated and I went to pull off my sweatshirt, and of course my teeshirt came with it.  Because that’s the kind of shit that happens to me.  So there I was, a sweaty, heaving mess, tits bulging out of my bra, and belly rolls on full display, staring stupidly at the tangle of sweat shirt and teeshirt in my hands, when this absolutely gorgeous man in a bespoke suit walked right up to me, took my shirts out of my hand and untangled them.  
   
He told me I was beautiful, and dressed me in my teeshirt while I stood gaping at him.  He wiped the sweat off my face and neck with my sweatshirt, told me running was obviously not my forte and to take up swimming.  Then he gave me specific instructions to meet him the next morning at his gym, with my swim gear.“  I shrugged.  "What else was I going to do?  I was an utter mess, at my absolute worst, and still this gorgeous, confident, elegant man had taken an interest in me.  Until that point no one had ever even told me I was pretty, even before my accident.  I’m not sure that most of the men I knew even realised I was a girl.”

Tom is shaking his head.  In disbelief?  "Sometimes I despair of my sex.  They can be utter cocks, darling.“

"And not in a good way.” I returned darkly.  "And just so you know, I’ve got my eye on you, Hiddleston.“

He turned in front of me, walking backwards.  "Do you really, darling?”  with a roguish tilt to his chin.

“I… I didn’t mean…” I stuttered.  Pretty bastard laughed.

We walked around the park, stopped for ice cream.  The man has a sweet tooth for sure.  Rocky Road for him, which made all kinds of sense to me.  I always seem to be unearthing nuts and marshmallows in his personality.  He’s not boring, anyway.

I wonder if I ought to bring my gift for him up, or not.  I’ve started work on drafting some drawings and plans for his kitchen, showing the changes we’d discussed that first morning.  I was doing it, I’ll admit, largely because I hated his fucking morgue of a kitchen.  But also because I cared that he didn’t feel comfortable in his own kitchen.  That sucks.  

And because he’d been so good to me that I wanted to do something good for him.  I might feel a little bit guilty that I’m the one who made him aware of his discomfort, since he’s told me that he thinks of his kitchen as ‘The Morgue’ now.  And yeah, I may be showing off a little bit.  I’m not a complete ninny, and I am a really good kitchen designer.

Plus, you know, all my evenings are free now.

We stopped to watch some dogs at play in the dog run, while we finished our ice cream.  They all bounced around and over each other having fun.  I glanced up at Tom, laughing as he watched the dogs.  I wander a few steps away, watching an adorable half grown Labrador puppy bounce around.  So much energy, such a laughing, good-natured face.  I glanced back at Tom with a grin, thinking that the two of them have much in common as he laughed at the antics of another pair of dogs wrestling around on the ground.   
   
I turned back to the pup to find that he’d caught sight of a squirrel outside the fence and was barking madly at it.  Damn squirrel was teasing the poor dog, prancing about outside the enclosure, digging at the grass and flicking its tail, chittering away.  The squirrel suddenly darted away along the fence with the pup in hot pursuit on the other side.  Glancing up, I wonder where the little tree-rat is headed, just as I saw a newly arrived dog owner standing in the open gate, trying to get his little terrier to hold still long enough to untangle him from his lead and release  him into the run.  

My gaze flicks back to the squirrel and the pup, and I feel a flash of ice run straight up my spine.  I was in motion before I even had time to think.  I take off, trying to head the puppy off, but I can see that’s he’s going to barrel his way right past the terrier and his person.   
   
Sure enough, the hound shouldered between the pair and the gate, and he was loose, running madly to catch the squirrel.  I thought I might be able to head the pup off, or distract him long enough to slow him down and catch hold, but the little bugger was singleminded in his goal, dodging around me.  

He just squeaked his tail out of my grasp.   I put on a burst of speed, but the beast was faster, and the goddamn squirrel is now heading straight for the busy street instead of up a tree like any half sane tree-rat.  Oh god, oh god, the stupid rodent is going to lead that idiot pup right out into traffic!   
   
My heart pounding and lungs laboring, I’m just out of arms reach, hearing shouting and swearing behind me, just as the squirrel darts into the road.  I’m reaching desperately for the pup when there’s a shout in my ear of my name and, in a whirl of falling sky and twisting grass, I’m tackled from behind and tumbled to the ground.  

I scream, “Noooo!  Let go!  Let go!  Fuck off!  Get off!”   I wrench my head up, peering frantically into the street just as I hear a screech of brakes and a yelp, but no thud, thank god, thank god, no thud!  I see someone running past me calling what must be the pups’ name, “Riley! Riley! Come Riley!”

To my sudden and vast relief I see the puppy, Riley, come galloping back onto the grass of the park, barreling into his person, wriggling and licking happily.  I collapse with a groan, only then realising that it’s Tom clutching me, and muttering imprecations at me.  
   
“You crazy-!  Are you mad??  Christ!  Are you alright, are you hurt?!  You’re ok, thank god you’re ok…!”  He panted and pawed at me, checking me for injuries, then wrapping himself around me in a protective cocoon, clutching at me.

“For fuck’s sake, Tom!  Why did you do that?!  I almost had him!  I’m fine!  Get off me, dammit!”  I’m scrambling around trying to get loose so I can check on the pup, but Tom isn’t letting go.  My yelling sure made an impact, though, changing Tom’s focus from my well being to my actions, and boy did I get an earful, right in my ear!

“What the bloody hell were you playing at??” he roared, “You could have been killed!!  Christ, woman!” he gasped, sitting up, grabbing my shoulders and giving me a vigorous shaking.

“Tom!  Cut it out!  Ow!” I yelped as my head snapped around on my neck.  Suddenly I’m clutched back to his chest.  

"I’m not a two year old off my leading strings!  I wasn’t going to run out in the street!  Seriously, Tom, get a grip!“

Tom is wrapped around me, and I’m in his lap as he clutches at me.  I hear him in my ear, dragging in a ragged breath.  I’m all primed to give him a right ticking off when I realise that Tom is well and truly upset, and I don’t think that it has anything to do with me, really.  

I pull back and look in his face.  "Are you alright?” I ask in concern.  I watch the panic drain out of his face, and his breathing start to slow.  He shuddered a little, squeezing his eyes shut.

Riley prances up to us, delighted to have people on the ground where he can reach us.  He sticks a cold, wet nose in my ear, snuffling madly over me.  Laughing I grab his head and pet him.  His owner is standing next to us with a lead in his hands.

“Come on, chum!  Let’s get you leashed.  No more squirrels today, right?”  He gets Riley’s lead attached and straightens.

“I can’t thank you enough for that!” He smiled down at me and extended his hand to pull me up.  I look up at him, and see a pair of chocolate brown eyes fringed in sooty lashes smiling down at me, from a very square jawed, clean-shaven face.  Oooh.  Dimple in his chin!

Tom is instantly on his feet, pulling me up himself, ostentatiously brushing grass and twig bits off me.  I make a sound of annoyance at his parental treatment and step away toward the man, extending my hand.

“You’re welcome, for whatever good I did, he’s a fast bugger!  I’m Ellie.  That’s Tom.”  He took my hand.

“Henry.  Sorry about Riley, he’s still learning to come to heel.  But we’ll fix that soon, won’t we, mate?”  He reaches down and thumps Riley on the ribs.

Tom’s smiling public face is firmly back in place when I glance at him, but the corner of his mouth…  He’s watching Henry closely.  He extends his hand to Henry for a firm, guy shake.  

"I’m glad there was no harm done.“  He sounds almost jovial.  Dropping Henry’s hand, he drapes his arm across my shoulders.  What?  

I twist my head up and look at him in puzzlement.  Then I realise.  Henry hasn’t taken his eyes off of me.  These two are engaged in some kind of freaking alpha-male thing.  I barely stop my eyes from rolling.  Men.  Jeez.

Henry steps back, his eyes dropping to Riley.  "Well, we must be getting on.  Thanks for your help, Ellie.”  His dark eyes flash up to mine.  "It was nice to meet you both.“  He nodded cordially at us and let Riley lead him off down the pathway.  

Tom looses a tiny snort.  I glance back up at Tom.  He’s still watching Henry’s departure, a lifted eyebrow and a small…sneer on his face.  Huh.  Was that all about…me?  I look around at Henry’s back, just as he looks back over his shoulder, meeting my eyes.  I feel Tom’s arm tighten around my shoulders.  He turns us in the other direction and motions ahead.

"Shall we?”  Glancing up, I nod.  What the hell just happened?  I have never been so aware of standing between two very male… um, men, before.  I shivered slightly, Tom glancing down at the motion.  The lines fanning from the corners of his eyes deepen and a small smile appears on his lips.

I tip my head back and look him in the eye.  "Why do I suddenly feel like a juicy steak?“ I mutter.

Tom’s smile broadened, and he leaned down to speak directly in my ear.  "Because you are, darling…  You have no idea…”  He stood tall and fucking twinkled at me.  Ok, then. I shook my head.

“Tom!”  I reached for his shirt, yanking at it. “You’ve got blood on the back of your shirt!  Let me see..”

“Ellie, leave off, I’m fine!”  Tom skittered away from my grip on his shirt.  
   
Exasperated, I reached again, determined to check his back for damage.  It’s a thing I have, ok?.

“Tom, dammit, stand still!  I just want to check…”

Tom went still, alright.  Then he spoke in a lower register than I had yet heard, his voice almost gravelly.  

"Elena.  Stop that right now.“

My hands spasmed themselves free of his shirt and whipped behind my back.  "Yes, Sir.  Sorry, Sir.”  I whispered.  Tom had never before come the Dom with me.  I guess he really doesn’t want me to check his back.  

I bit my lip as I realised how automatically I had responded to his tone.  A blush boiled up across my cheeks.  He is not my Dom.  Fuck.  Tom stood so near that I could hear his deep intake of air.  He let the breath out slowly.

Tom turned as if nothing untoward had happened, and dropped his arm over my shoulders again.  He smiled at me and said, “I’m sure it’s fine. It’s just a scrape”.  He leaned in closer to my ear and murmured, “I don’t particularly want to strip off in public, Ellie.  I generally get let alone if I’m discrete.  Taking my shirt off in public wouldn’t be terribly discrete, now would it?”

I leaned back to look up in his face, his expression a bit rueful and apologetic, but the corner of his mouth is doing that thing.

“I could do with some tea…  There’s a decent little cafe just there.” He pointed with his chin and took my hand, gently pulling me along to the cafe entrance.

We ordered tea and a scone to share, and settled into our chairs, Tom sprawling his legs out under the table.  He stretched his hand out across the table, turning the palm up in invitation.  I slipped my hand into his with no hesitation, feeling comfortable and at ease with him in a way I hadn’t felt in a very long time.  His hand closed around mine, squeezing lightly and idly tracing circles into my skin with his thumb. 

 I regarded him, wondering what was happening in his head.  For once I could see that his focus was more on the interior of his head, than on me.  I suppressed a snort.  I know from experience how intense that focus can be.

I leaned forward in my seat, taking hold of his restlessly circling thumb. 

 "Tom…?  Did you seriously think that I was going to run out into traffic after that idiot puppy?“

Tom blew out a long breath.  "Ellie, I honestly don’t know.”  His eyes tracked up from our hands to my face.  

"I don’t…  thinking didn’t really enter into it.  I’ve never been so, so galvanized, as when I saw you heading into…danger.  I’ve never been so frightened in my life, not since I was nine, or thereabouts…  Oh.“  He sat back in his chair, a look of surprise and revelation on his face.  He gave a small grunt.  "Huh…”

I jostled our hands, capturing his attention.  "What, Tom?  Tell me?“  
   
"Mmmm.  When I was nine I saw a schoolmate of mine run into the street after a football and get knocked down by a car…  He was killed instantly.”  Tom grimaced, and blew out another breath.  "I haven’t thought of that in years…  I think that’s what must have been in the back of my head when I saw you chasing after that damn dog.“  

His hand squeezed mine very hard, the tendons standing out along the back of it, his knuckles whitening with the strength of his grip.  I hissed a little as the bones in my hand ground together a bit.

Tom instantly released my hand,  "God, darling, I’m so sorry!  Did I hurt you?”  He turned my hand over, rubbing and soothing it.

“It’s fine, Tom.  I’m made of sterner stuff.  So, your mate was knocked down and killed right in front of you?  God, that must have been horrible for you!”

Tom shrugged.  "More horrible for him, I should think.“

"Don’t do that!  Tom…  I’m sure it was awful for him, but it was over for him quickly.  You…you’ve had to live with it ever since.  Tragedies are always harder on the survivors.  I know.” 

I leaned over and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek.  His other hand came up and touched the spot lightly.  He swallowed.

“Thank you, Ellie.”  He paused a moment.  "I’m sorry that my…childhood memories chased you down and tackled you.“  He smiled ruefully.

"Yes, well.  I’m sorry that I triggered it.  And maybe a little…  Just to be clear, Tom, you don’t really believe that I’m the kind of brainless idiot that you have to stop wandering into traffic, right?  Because, I’m really not stupid or suicidal.”

“No.” He looked at me judiciously, his head cocked.  "I don’t think you are.  That first night you had me a bit worried, but no, I don’t think you’re suicidal.  Or stupid.  In fact you’re fairly bright…“

I held up my hand, interrupting him.  "If you say 'for a girl’ I’m gonna smack you, Dom or no!”

He chuckled.  "Darling, I’m not stupid or suicidal, either!”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think this is my favorite chapter...

‘Bear Necessities’ rang out from my phone.  I haven’t heard from Tom in several days.  He said he’s been filming at all hours, and falling straight on his nose for the last five days.  It sounds abusive, if you ask me, but I don’t write his contracts.  I snatched the phone up.

“Tom!  Hi, how have you been?”

“To tell the truth, darling, I’m a bit shattered,” he says wearily.  "I’ve been filming outdoors all day in the muck and the rain…“

My forehead scrunched in concern.  "Where are you?  Is there anything I can do for you?”  The question spills out before I think, well, anything at all.

“Well, that’s the thing, Ellie.  I’m on my way home, but I’m so damn tired.  Would you be good to me and bring dinner?  I haven’t the energy to deal with it, but I could do with some company…”

That’s easy.  "Sure.“  I glance at my watch.  "What time will you be home?”

“Thank you, darling.  I should be home in about an hour if the traffic cooperates.”

“Alright, I can do that.  What would you like for dinner?”

“To not have to make a decision about it?  Seriously, darling, ” he yawned, “I’m just so knackered, could you possibly just choose?  Please yourself, I’ll eat anything that doesn’t move…”

I snicker.  "I’ll remember that!“  He chuckled tiredly back.  Then my gut clenched.  He wants me to choose his dinner?  I don’t want to disappoint.  But he said…  An idea blooms in my head.  Perfect!  Oh, yes, that will be just the thing…

"Ok, Tom.  I’ll be there in an hour, with dinner.  Drive carefully.”  My throat closed, and I swallow hard around the lump.  "Thank you, Tom.“  I whisper.

"Oh, Ellie.”  He breathed back.  He sounds…pleased?  He cleared his throat.  "Thank you, Ellie.  See you soon.“  He rang off.

I stood a moment staring at the phone in my hand, processing.  Tom had called me and asked me to do something for him.  Me?  He trusted me to be there for him.  At last he’s giving me a chance to repay some of his kindnesses.  Tears sprang to my eyes and I had to swallow around that lump again.  I’m…grateful?  I know it seems a small thing, just bring dinner for a friend, but it feels like a gift.  A fierce feeling of pride welled up inside me, energising me.  I can do this.

I pocketed my phone and turned to my kitchen.  Surveying the contents of my freezer, I pulled out the large container of chicken noodle soup that I’d made and put up last week.  And there’s that nice crusty baguette from the bakery at the end of the block that I bought this morning.  Oh, yes.  I hope he’ll like it.  Sometimes when you’re wrung out, what you need most is simple, tasty, and hot.  That it's filling and nutritious?  Bonus.  Just feed the boy. 

I can warm up the soup when I get to his, maybe tuck the bread into the oven to warm.  Let’s see, what else?  Oh, pudding!  Tom loves his pudding…  What do I have?  I don’t keep a lot of sweets about.  Oh wait, I know!  There’s that nice box of Belgian chocolates that a client gave me last week…  Excellent!  Grabbing a canvas carrier, I loaded the frozen soup, bread and chocolates in.   
   
Checking my watch, I see I’ve got plenty of time.  I dashed into my bath and showered off the days’ work quickly.  I dithered over my clothes and make-up, but I’m bringing dinner for a friend, not going out on the town!  I pulled out my top drawer and picked out the blush pink knickers and matching bra.  Why not?  Sue me, I’m a girl and I can dress like one, even if I’m the only one who knows it!

Skimming them on, I found my black jeans and a dark grey stretchy tee.  As it was chilly from the rain today, I grabbed a blue plaid flannel shirt.  And my boots.

Checking the mirror and the time, I scurried back into the bath and pulled my mop up into a messy bun.  I swiped on a bit of mascara, a touch of grey shadow, and some lip balm.  Done.  Not too bad, not too much.  Glancing at my watch I saw that I had just enough time to catch the tube.

I arrived on his doorstep just as he pulled to the kerb.  I turned and watched as he got out of his Jag and stretched.  A smile lightened his tired face when he looked up and saw me waiting at the door.  He trudged wearily up the steps and took the bag of food from me, kissing me on the cheek.

"Oh, darling, I can’t thank you enough for this…”  He looked knackered, just as he’d said.  I nodded.  He unlocked the door and tossed his keys on the hall table, turning and closing it behind me.  I got my first good look at him in the light.

“Oh, Tom, what have you been doing to yourself?”  

He didn’t just look knackered, he looked worn through, shadows under his eyes, deep grooves beside his mouth.  I reached up and traced the lines of pain between his eyebrows gently.

“Right.”  I stepped back.  "I’m going to set dinner warming, I’ll be right back.  Please sit down before you fall down…“

I marched into the morgue and set my bag down on the counter.  Before I started dinner, though,  I knew I’d seen, somewhere...  Opening his cupboards, I found his bottle of scotch and a tumbler.  I poured a hefty measure into the glass, and took it out to Tom.  I found him sitting on the sofa, head back, eyes closed, hands limp on his thighs.  I put the glass in his hand as his eyes blinked open.

"God, darling, thank you.”  I smiled at him and brushed my hand over his hair.  
   
“Have you had anything for that headache, yet?” I asked quietly.

He grimaced.  "No…“

I went back into the morgue and returned with a couple of painkillers and a bottle of water.  Nudging his shoulder, I handed them to him.  His mouth quirked up and I thought he’d say something snarky about my bossiness, but he swallowed the tablets and settled back with a sigh.   
   
"Thank you, Ellie.”  I reached for his hand to squeeze.  "No worri…  Tom!  Your hands are freezing!“    Touching his cheek, I realised he was chilled through.

"Do you have a tub in this place large enough to let your long self lie back and soak?”

He nodded.  "My bath…“

"Ok, I’m going to draw you a bath, you need to warm up, and I suspect a hot soak will do wonders for all those sore muscles you’re trying to hide.”  I stood.  "It’s alright if I go into your room?“

He waved me off.  "Be my guest…”

I went upstairs and through his room to his bath.  I stopped and gasped.  He wasn’t kidding!  That bath was large enough for him to lie back in, and at least two others his size! And, oh yes, it also had jets!  

I stoppered the tub and started the water flowing, getting the temperature just this side of scalding.  Good.  I had just enough time to get the soup warming slowly.  I nipped down to the morgue, found a large pot, and set the soup warming on low, and the bread in a warm oven.

I went back into the lounge and collected Tom.  I tugged at his hand.  "Come on, your bath will be ready in a moment, let’s get you up."  

He stood to his feet and wrapped his arms around me.  He set his chin in my hair, his large palm holding my head to his chest over his steady heartbeat, for a long moment.   Then he sighed and stepped back. I took his hand, towing him gently along.  I turned back to watch him mount the stairs tiredly.  My mouth quirked in a small grin just as he looked up from his feet.

“Now, what’s that grin about, hmm?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” I said airily.  "Just wondering if I was going to have to get behind you and push…“  He chuckled quietly.

"Music?”  I asked.  He pulled his phone out and swiped through a few screens, and shoved the thing into my hands.  "You choose…“

I was momentarily tempted to blast Daft Punk, but I thought that would be too cruel.  I settled on the Vivaldi, and put his mobile in the speaker dock on the vanity.  
When I turned back, he was sitting on the edge of the tub with his eyes closed.   
   
"I’m going to check on dinner,” I said and left him to undress.  On my way back, I detoured into the lounge and picked up his drink and bottle of water.  

I tapped on the half closed door.  "Tom?“  I didn’t hear anything so I pushed the door open a bit and peeked in.  He was sitting on the edge of the tub, just as I’d left him.  I can’t imagine how he managed to fall asleep sitting up. I guess you learn all kinds of skills when you’re an actor…

He must have been even more tired than I’d thought.  Damn it, what are they doing to him on set to send him home in such a state??  I set the drinks down on the tub surround, knelt down in front of him, and took his hands.

"Tom?  Tom, honey, let me get you undressed and into the water…?” 

He drew a long breath and blinked his eyes open.  "Mmmm.  Yeah.  Right.“ he mumbled.  Ok, then.

I unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, waiting for him to stop me and take over, but he just let me carry on.  Ok, I can do this.

Unbuttoning his shirt, I pushed it off.  I reached for his belt and got it undone, and the trouser button.  I stood and tugged on his elbow.

"Come on, up you get…”  I pulled his trouser zipper and pushed them off his hips. They just fell to the floor from there.  Skinny fucker…  I glanced up.  

He watched me strip him.  Ok, then.  I slid his boxer-briefs down and helped him step out.  Of course I looked.  Discreetly.  Well, I didn’t gasp, or point, or scream, anyway. But, yum.  I steadied him as he stepped into the bathtub.  

He hissed through his teeth as he sank into the hot water, and groaned voluptuously as he lay back.  "Too hot?“ I asked.

"Oh, noooo…  It’s lovely.” he moaned.  I picked up his glass and set it in his hand.  He raised it and took a long sip.  I turned the jets on.

“God, Ellie, this is just right.  Thank you.”  He reached his free hand over and grasped mine.  We sat quietly, eyes closed, listening to Vivaldi’s strings, basking in the warmth.

Eventually I stirred and stood.  I took off my flannel shirt and hung it on the hook on the back of the door.  I went back,  knelt at the side of the tub, and turned off the jets.  I slid an arm under his shoulders, cradling his head on my forearm.  I nudged him a little farther down into the hot water and tipped his head back, wetting his hair.  

It instantly turned into silk, the soft strands swirling around his head, the reds and blondes muting into brown.  I gently washed his hair.  He was loose limbed and compliant, but then I supposed he must be used to people horsing him about and fiddling with his hair.  I scratched my short nails over his scalp and he moaned.

I tipped him back and rinsed him, then pulled him to sit and reached for a flannel and the soap.  I washed his back an shoulders in long smooth strokes, then settled him back and washed his neck and chest, arms and hands.

In for a penny, right?  It was nothing he hadn’t done for me when he’d found me melting down in his guest shower that first morning.  So I carefully washed the rest of him.  

I thought I’d never finish those mile long legs.  God.  Truly beautiful, muscled legs.  And lastly I gingerly washed his…bits.  Heavy and hardening.  I glanced up at his face and saw the tiny smile.  Finishing and wringing the flannel out, I leant forward and whispered into his ear “Flatterer…”

His lips twitched, but his eyes stayed closed.  "Beautiful woman touching me…“ he whispered back.  I managed not to snort out loud.

I stood.  "I’m going to check on dinner.  Do you want it here, or in the lounge?”

Tom took a deep breath and stretched, opening his eyes.  "In the lounge, if you wouldn’t mind, Ellie.  That would be lovely.  I’ll be down in a moment.“

I left him there and went down to set dinner out.  I set the table simply with bowls and spoons. Bread, right.  I got the bread out and sliced it.  When I carried it in, Tom was just sitting down, his hair damp and skin glowing pink from the hot bath, in a tee shirt and jeans.

"This smells so marvelous, Ellie!  Where did you get it?”  I went a little pink myself.

“Um, well, I made it last week and had it in the freezer, so I thought it might do…”  I ladled some soup into his bowl.

He looked up from setting his serviette in his lap, and then looked down into his bowl, taking another long breath of the steam floating off the surface.  He picked up his spoon and stirred it a bit.

“Chicken noodle?”  I nodded and watched as he took his first bite.  His eyes closed as he chewed and swallowed.  He paused a moment before opening his eyes and looking at me.  

“Ellie.” was all he said, but his face said everything else.  I nodded and smiled a small satisfied smile.  We ate in companionable silence and then cleared the table.  I poured the rest of the soup back into the container and put it away in his refrigerator, while he loaded the few dishes into the dishwasher.  He’ll have another hot meal or two this week, anyway.

I shivered, feeling chilled.  I glanced down and noticed that the belly of my shirt was wet from leaning over the tub to wash him.  No matter.  I could just pull it off and wear my flannel shirt for the trip home.

Tom dropped a long arm over my shoulder, I reached up an grasped his hand, smiling at him.

“Sleepy?” I asked.  He yawned.  I laughed. “Well, that answers that!”  We walked through, and up the stairs into his room.  He turned to me and pointed at the dresser.

“Second drawer down.  Tee shirts.”  Ok?  He turned to pull the bedcovers down and walked into the bath.  I heard the water start in the sink.  

What the hell, I shrugged.  I walked over to the dresser he’d indicated, opened the second drawer, and pulled out the top tee shirt off the stack.  The scent of his laundry powder and Himself rose to my nose.  I inhaled deeply before  Closing the drawer, I brought the shirt to him.  He was brushing his teeth.  He spat and rinsed, tapping his toothbrush on the sink, and smiled into the mirror at my reflection.  I held out the shirt to him, and he tsked at me.

“That’s for you, darling.  You’re all wet and chilled.  Strip.”

“Oh, well, Tom, that’s not…  Hey!”

He interrupted me by reaching out and pulling my tee shirt off in one quick move.

He glanced down at my bra.  "Very pretty.“ he said, fingering the strap.  "Off.”

“Tom…”  I was completely caught off guard.  I had thought I was coming up here to get my shirt before making off home.

“Do you usually sleep in your bra?” he asked.

“Well, no, of course not.  But…”

“Then off with it.”  He folded his arms and waited patiently.  I sighed, resigned.  This was clearly going to go the way Tom wanted.  I knew I was bright pink, as I reached behind me to flip the hooks at the back.  Tom plucked the bra off me.

He put a finger under my chin and tipped my head up into his gaze.

“Also very pretty.”  His gaze lingered on my bare breasts, before he pulled the tee shirt over my head and pushed my arms through.  He settled his shirt over me.  Then his hands moved to the snap of my jeans, and he pushed those off, too.  He turned away, hanging both garments on a towel rack, and then pointed to a new toothbrush.

“Brush your teeth, wash your face, whatever, and come to bed.”  He walked out, closing the door behind him.  I shook my head.  Well shit, I guess I’m spending the night.  I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and had a pee.  I left my hair up, it would be less of a mess to deal with in the morning.

I opened the door, flicked the light off behind me, and padded quietly across the carpet.  Tom lifted the covers for me.  To my relief he was wearing a tee shirt and his boxer-briefs.  I slid into the bed and he turned me onto my side, settling me in his arms and spooning up behind me before pulling the bedcovers up over us both.  His arm settled over my waist, and he kissed me behind my ear.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me tonight, Ellie.” he murmured.  "De nada.“ I murmured back.

Tom dropped off almost immediately, but I lay there staring into the dark, thinking over the evening.  I was…happy?  Yeah.  That was it.  I felt a small bubble expanding in my belly.  Happy.  Huh.  I just spent the entire evening taking care of him, and it made me happy.  

The bubble swelled inside me.  He’d asked me for help, for succor when he was wrecked, and I’d been only too happy to help.  Grateful to be asked, in fact.  He hadn’t ordered me around, but I had nonetheless spent every moment with my attention on him, doing my best to find and fulfill his needs.

The bubble expanded again, a tear trickled out of my eye, and trailed down into my hair.  I’m happy.  I lifted my hand and wiped the wet off my face.  I closed my eyes and snuggled back into his warm body, his warm breath fanning comfortingly over my cheek. 

 I forgot the chocolates…  I drifted off.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos button right there...


	12. Chapter 12

“James?  What are you doing here?”  I stood on the walkway, looking up the steps to my flat, holding bags of groceries in each hand.  I’d spotted his dark blue Mercedes parked at the kerb.  James was leaning on my doorframe.  My heart thumped a time or two.  He looked sinfully good, expensively cut dark hair brushed back, black button-down, hands tucked casually into the front pockets of dark blue jeans. 

His long legs uncrossed from the ankle as he stood to his full height, his eyes on my face.  He smiled knowingly at me, and I flushed.  He had seen my once-over, and my appreciation.  I may be spitting angry at him, but he’s still fucking beautiful.  His smile disappeared, and his eyes hooded.  I had seen this swift transition from playful to lustful before, oh yes.  I had seen it multiple times, and I still had that visceral reaction to it, to him.  Like someone had pushed my ‘instant-on’ button.  

But I don’t run my life according to the whims of a wet pussy.  At least not anymore.

I huffed my annoyance, and marched up the steps to my door, handing a bag of groceries to him so I could fish my keys out of my jeans pocket.  As I unlocked my front door, he leaned down and growled into my ear.

“I came to get my girl back…”

“What?  No 'Pet’?” I snapped.  "I’ve never been your 'girl’, and I’m not your 'pet’ anymore, either, James.“  I opened the door, and he followed me inside with the other bag of groceries.

"You never were very good at reading me, James.  But it’s not news that I find you attractive.  That hasn’t changed in the last month.  Other things haven’t changed, either.  You’re still married.  You still wanted to hand me over to the odious William, without discussing it with me first.  You still lied to me, James!  You broke your little fucktoy, James, and you can’t fix it.  I’m done with you.”

He set the bag of groceries down on the table by the door.  "But I’m not done with you, Elena.“ he purred.

"Yeah, you are.  You’re as thick as two short planks, if you think you aren’t.”  I snatched up the other bag of groceries and carried them through to the kitchen, setting them down on the countertop before returning to the lounge, feeling my temper build.  I had hoped that he came to apologise, get some closure on this thing so we could both move on.  Evidently not.

“Don’t you get it, James?  I gave you everything.  I thought I was giving myself to you.  But you, you weren’t accepting my gift, you were taking me.  You took my gift, and you stole it, stole me! Turned me into nothing but a fucktoy.  I’m worth more than that, James!”

“Elena.  Would you have accepted me if you’d known that I was married?”

“Christ!  Of course not, James!”

“Well, then.”  He looked smugly at me, as if he had just won the argument.

“That’s it?  Really??  That’s all the consideration you gave to telling me that you were married?  The only thing that mattered was that you wouldn’t get what you wanted if you told me?  Jesus, James!  Don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

James shrugged at me.  "Our relationship is not really based on what you want, pet.  Remember?  You’re the sub.“

"We never had a relationship, James!  Relationships are based on mutual trust and honesty! On caring!  D/s relationships are supposed to be consensual, but by lying to me about such a fundamental thing you removed any possibility that I could consent.  Without that, what we had was nothing short of abusive.  Newsflash, James.  Submissive doesn’t mean sub-human.  It doesn’t mean that I didn’t have feelings, or needs, or christ, morals!”  I fumed.

“I may be a sub, but I’m not your sub.  And James?  You’re no Dom.  You’re just an asshole.”

“You know, James, in your arrogance, you never bothered to tell me, to teach me the things that I needed to know.  You never told me about safewords, for one.  Or hard limits.  Which was another kind of lie to me!  You demanded that I trust you completely, but never bothered to realise that my trust depended entirely on your trustworthiness.    
So, here it is, James.  My safeword is 'safeword’, and I’m using it now.  Are you honorable enough to respect it?  Or are you just an abusive prick?”

His brow had darkened, and his eyes had narrowed.  I knew that look.  He was furious, and he lunged at me.  I skipped back out of his reach, putting the sofa between us.

“Well, I guess that answers that.  James, it’s time for you to leave now.  If you touch me, I will hurt you.  No more.  You know where the door is.  Please let it hit you in the arse on your way out.”

I stood back and watched as his face twisted up in a snarl.  "You know, pet, I was going to go easy on you…“ he stalked me across the room.

Maintaining the hard, cut-glass tone I’ve been using with him, I said, "Clear out, James.” and took a step or two back to open a path to the door.  "Don’t fuck with me, James. Put a finger on me, and I will dislocate your shoulder.  I’m not messing about, James.“ I warned him clearly.

The idiot kept coming.  He’d moved me from pissed-off to cold rage.  I stood my ground and waited, ready.  He’s really going to force me to do this, I thought almost eagerly.  He’d had fair warning.

James reached for me, grabbing my upper arm.  Instead of yanking backward as he expected, I cannoned forward into him.  He grunted in surprise as I knocked him off balance.  Twisting into him, I grabbed his wrist and spun behind him, lifting it between his shoulder blades.  Before he could pull free I calmly reached for the grasp that I’d been taught all those years ago, and neatly dislocated his shoulder.  Exactly as I’d said I would.

He fell with a yell of shock and pain, and I let him drop to his knees.  Taking a couple steps back, I waited for him to stop swearing.  Then I leaned down toward him, with as much quiet menace as I could manage.

"Do you fucking understand now, James?”

“Christ, Elena! Fuck!” he moaned.

“That’s right, James.  It hurts, doesn’t it?  Rest assured that the emotional pain you caused me hurt so many times more than the physical pain you’re in now.”  I couldn’t help the tear that rolled down my face, but he was too involved in his pain to notice as he knelt on the floor, sweat breaking out along his hairline.

“Thank you, James, for ignoring my warning and giving me the excuse to do what you so richly deserve.  Now, are we all clear that I mean what I say, and that I’m capable of enforcing it?  Because, you know, if you need another lesson, I’m more than happy to deliver it.”  I stepped toward him and stood over him, driving it home.

“Once again, James.” I said patiently, “I am nothing to you.  I am not your pet.  I am not your fucktoy.  Not your little slut.  Nor your filthy whore.  If you can remember that, I’ll put your shoulder back and you can be on your way… Or I can just call the police.  I’m sure that you’ll be happy to explain to them that this is just consensual play, and how it is that I don’t seem to be consenting.”   
   
I waited, watching him dispassionately as he held his arm and panted in pain.  I can’t say that a little piece of me wasn’t enjoying getting a little of my own back, but mostly, I was just horrified that I was really doing this.  But I managed to hold my line, just barely.

“Alright!  Alright!  Please, just put it back!” he panted.

“Right.”  I moved over to him.  "Lie back on the floor.   I won’t lie to you and tell you that this won’t hurt a bit.  It’s going to hurt.  A lot.  Are you ready?“  Without waiting for his assent, I reached for his elbow and put a hand on his shoulder.  Giving a quick lift, yank, and twist, I popped the thing back in it’s socket.  James screamed and lay panting.  I stood to my feet and stepped back, waiting for him to recover enough to leave.

Suddenly the front door burst open and Tom stood there, blocking the light.  Apparently James had left the door unlocked when he followed me in.  I switched my gaze back to James.  Tom stood in the doorway, rapidly assessing the situation.

"Alright, then, love?” The calm control in his voice sliced through the room…

Tom looked me swiftly up and down, checking that I was uninjured, and stepped between me and the moaning man on the floor.  He shoved his hands into his pockets, feigning a casual pose, but I could see the coiled tension of his shoulders, the bunching of his biceps as he held himself in check.

“So, darling.  Need help taking out the rubbish?”  He prodded James with the toe of his shoe.  "Or hiding a body?“ he added grimly.  There was no mistaking the threat in his voice, or that it was aimed at James.

I stepped around Tom and gestured at James.  "As you can see, the 'body’ is still breathing.  This time.”  I said it as dismissively as I could.  I let him live, I thought very quietly.  I’ve never actually sneered at anyone before, but I gave it a damn good shot as I looked at James. 

 "His car is just on the street, there.  The blue Merc?  Perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping James into it?  James, I put your shoulder back in it’s socket, and it should be fine… as long as you stay the fuck away from me.  You might want to put some ice on that when you get home.“

Tom reached down and pulled James back to his feet.  "You heard the lady.  You’re done.”  There was no fight left in James as Tom took James’ elbow in a firm grip and marched him out the door.  

I went into the kitchen, got a bottle of water out of the fridge and guzzled half of it down.  Now I start shaking.  I sat quickly at my table as my knees threatened to give out.  It’s just reaction to the adrenalin in my system, not belated terror.  Really.  I forced myself to breathe deeply and evenly.  A shadow fell over me.

Tom yanked me up out of my chair by my upper arms and crushed me to him.  "Thank god you’re alright!  Oh, Ellie!“  He buried his face in my hair, muttering, "Brave girl, foolhardy, reckless, strong, clever, brave girl…”

“You said that already…” I pointed out, my voice muffled in his chest and shaking a little.  "T-Tom?  I need to sit…“  He scooped me up without warning, which made me squeak, and sat down in my chair, with me on his lap.

"What happened, Ellie?  What was he doing here?”  Tom demanded gruffly, his arms around me, his palm pressing my ear over his heart.  It was positively thundering.  "Did you really put him on his arse and dislocate his shoulder??“

"Yeah…”  I almost giggled.  "2008 Senior All-Girls District Martial Arts Champion, me.  Got the surprise of his life, he did.  Turns out his 'fucktoy’ has teeth…“  I felt weirdly drunk.

Tom pushed me away from his chest by my shoulders.  "Firstly,” he said fiercely, looking me in the eyes, “You aren’t any kind of toy!  And, secondly, you aren’t his in any way!  Are you?”

“N-no, Tom.”  His ferocity had taken me by surprise.  He crushed me back to his chest.

“How did he get in here to begin with? The front door was ajar, and I heard him scream just as I reached the stoop.  I swear I aged ten years in that moment!”

I recounted the story of finding James leaning on my doorframe, and my forlorn hope that he’d come to offer me an apology.  Tom stiffened and looked into my face, his mouth stern.

“I take it he didn’t apologise?”  I shook my head.

“Would you have taken him back, if he had?”

“God, no!  That ship sailed the moment I found out he lied!” I said indignantly.  "I may not know much about relationships, but I do know that one has to be based on respect and trust.  It may have taken me an unconscionably long time to notice that he neither respected nor trusted me, but I can assure you that I won’t make that mistake again!  Dishonesty is definitely going to the top of my list of hard limits!“   
   
Tom shook his head.  "Well, that’s something, anyway.”  He sighed.

“Excuse me??  Do you think you could be just a little more patronizing, Tom?”  I pushed off his lap and wrapped my arms around myself.

Tom stood himself, and began to pace about the kitchen.  "Let me get this straight.  You let him into your flat?  He didn’t push his way in?“

I looked at him in incredulity.  "Of course I did!  I wasn’t going to have that discussion on my front doorstep in full view of the whole neighborhood!  What kind of fish-wife do you think I am?  Mum taught me better than to air my dirty laundry in public!”

“Seriously, Ellie?!” he snapped back.  "You voluntarily let that man into your flat, a man who had already demonstrated a willingness, even eagerness, to hurt you?“  Tom gritted out between clenched teeth.  "You’re not a fish-wife, you’re a bloody menace, you are!  How could you have put yourself in danger like that??”  He strode over, grasped my arms and gave me a little shake to make his point.  He bent over to look up into my down turned face to make eye contact with me.

I opened my mouth to tell him that obviously I was perfectly capable of defending myself, but Tom went ranting on.

“You’re like this ferocious little terrier, snapping and snarling at the big dogs, just daring them to take you on.  You think you’re bigger and badder than you are.”  He closed his eyes and dragged in a breath.  "I don’t think you realise just how… “  He released me and took a step back.  I gaped at him.

"Ellie…  This,” he gestured at me, and then placed his spread hand over his heart, “is beginning to hurt.  I’m in this constant state of wanting to turn you over my knee, to make you think before you leap.”  His voice deepened, and he almost whispered. “To…punish you for being so damn heedless of your safety.  It’s not good for either of us for me to go on pretending that I don’t want that.”  His hands were flexing slightly at his sides.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.  God, he looked almost like he was scenting me.  His jaw ticked several times, the muscle in his jaw flexing and knotting.  Then, oh god, his eyes snapped open and blazed into mine.

“So, here’s what you’re going to do, Ellie.  You’re going to take tonight and think about whether you… want that, too.  With me.”  Tom stepped up closer, much closer to my body.  I swear every fine hair on my entire body stood to attention.  One spark, and I might just have gone up like a goddamn flare.  He reached for my chin, and tipped my face up to his.  His eyes flicked over my face, feature by feature.  I could barely breathe, but I felt as if I were panting.

“I want you, Ellie.”  His eyes had finally settled on my lips.  His head dropped down and his lips brushed teasingly over mine and back again, “…in all the worst ways.” he whispered against my lips.

Almost without volition, my feet took the half step necessary to close the distance between us, and instantly his arms were around me, my arms trapped at my sides, and he was crushing my body to his, kissing me.  One forearm was between my shoulder blades, his large palm on the back of my neck, and his fingers in my hair.  His thumb lay below my ear, it’s pad resting just below my jaw.  He utterly controlled every movement of my head as he deepened the kiss, angling my head so that he could taste every corner of my mouth.  Oh god.  After an eternity of moments, he broke the kiss and I realised I should breathe again.

His eyes blazed into mine.  Why was this kiss so different than James’?  I licked my lip slowly as I considered, and his gaze zeroed in on the movement like a predator after prey.  His eyes dilated as his own tongue imitated mine, sweeping along his lower lip.  This.  

This is the difference.  James would have just taken what he wanted.  Tom, Tom was waiting, waiting for me to give him what he wants.  And I wanted to give it to him, oh lord, did I!  This is the wonder of his kiss; that I am not afraid of him.  I do not doubt that he will get what he wants, but I know all the way down that he won’t hurt me, damage me, to get it.

“Fuck, Ellie…!”  And he was on me again, his tongue invading, owning my mouth, my lips, my very breath.  My head was spinning with it.  I whined a bit when he pulled his lips away for the second time, but he firmly tilted my head to the side, his fingers tightening in my hair, and he slid his delicious mouth down my exposed neck, tasting and testing the texture of my skin.  His other hand slid down to cup my bottom, pulling my hips in tight against his thigh and up on my toes a bit.  My belly was igniting.

Suddenly, he stepped back and released me, reaching a steadying hand to my elbow as I tottered before catching my balance.  My eyelids fluttered open.  I felt drugged.  My vision was hazy, and I could feel the prickle of beard burn from his two day scruff warming the skin of my face and neck.

He smoothed my curls down, tucking a strand behind my ear, and moved his hand around the back of my neck.  He squeezed very lightly.

“Tomorrow, Ellie.”  And Tom turned and strode away as I stood staring dumbly after him.  He turned back briefly at the door.

“Morning.”  He cast me a stern look.

“Early.” and he pulled the door shut behind him.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a little smut. Should I have put 'Slow Burn' in the tags?

I began to shake.  What the hell just happened? I had to fight my own body to stand still.  Not to run after him and beg him not to make me wait.  God, that was amazing.  My fingers absently traced my lips in a daze as I stood staring blankly at the wall.  Sometime real soon, I’m going to snap out of it.

I’ll never know just how long I stood there staring at the blank space on the wall.  If I were honest, I’d have to say that the problem was that I’d never been so …fucking turned on, and so fucking close to coming while still wearing all of my clothes.  

Yeah.  It took me awhile to come down from that.  It was fucking intense.  God.  Not even when James played at withholding was it ever like that … 

And I really don’t want to be thinking of my ex at the moment. 

Tom.  I wanted to think about Tom.  As the tight coil in my belly began to unwind itself, in the most fucking gradual way, my brain finally started to come back online.  Am I out of my mind?  Is he out of his mind?

I wandered into the kitchen to start some tea, filling the kettle, spooning some leaf into the infuser, I began to process all that had happened today.  Fuck.  I turned the kettle off abruptly.  I was going to need something a good bit stronger… I got out the single malt, and a tumbler, and poured two fingers.  Taking a sip, I felt the fire trace its way down to warm my belly, and wandered back into the lounge, curling up on the sofa and staring into the golden depths of my glass.

All sorts of moorings got torn loose for me today.

First, James appearing out of the blue, just as I was tentatively beginning to settle into my own company again, beginning to feel free of missing him, free of missing someone… It's been nearly two months, after all.  
   
Second, the realization that he hadn’t come to apologise, oh no, he’d come to… reclaim what was his.  What I needed didn’t enter into it.  James really and truly saw me as a possession, and that’s all.  The last tiny bit of hope that he had loved me in some small way, fucking gone.

Third, I had realised that I didn’t actually want him back in any way.  Oddly, that comes as a bit of a shock.  Too many times over the last weeks I’d told myself that it was over with him… and secretly wondered if that were entirely true.  I’d wondered if I would go back to him if he asked, even after everything.  Now, I know.  I don’t want him.  I vaguely wondered if that meant I could quit crying.

Next, I had actually got into a physical confrontation with James. And I’d calmly and remorselessly dislocated his shoulder.  I’m a little - ok a lot - freaked out by that; that I’m not sorry.  I did what needed to be done, and defended myself.  I can be proud of that, of me.  I should.  Mostly what I’m proud of is that I stopped.  I could have …  I shuddered.  But I didn’t.  I stopped!

And then!  As if that weren’t sufficient revelations for the day, Tom…  I dropped my head into my hands and groaned.  Tom was right, I realised. 

 I did need tonight to think about his ‘proposal’ before I agreed.  The problem isn’t Tom, or at least not chiefly.  The problem is me.  Could I ever be that open and trusting again?  Did James ruin me?  And then, Tom telling me I’m some kind of Doms’ wet dream?  That seems…excessive.   
   
Can I trust Tom?  My body certainly does.  I’ve only known him for a couple of months, but, fuck me, it has by-god been two of the most intense months of my life, in a good way.  I mean, he literally scraped me off the pavement.  He cared for me.  He petted me, and reassured me, fuck, he even washed me.  He’s laughed with me, and let me cry on him.  He held my hair.  He yelled at me.  He told me he wants me.  Of course he also pretty much told me he wants to spank me… I shivered again.  Yeah, that last isn’t going to be a problem.

He fucking yelled at me.  Well, to be fair, he didn’t even raise his voice.  But he sure let me know in no uncertain terms that he was frightened for my safety, and unhappy with me for putting myself in danger.  Even though he didn’t really understand that James was in more danger than I.  I thought about that for a minute.  I think he really cares about my…wellbeing.  I mean, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t bother to fuss at me, would he?  Is it weird that being told off made me feel…protected?

I do think he cares.  He’s been caring for me since the very first word he ever spoke to me- right after chasing down and retrieving my runaway tube of lip gloss that first night.

I care, too.

When I finally came back to myself the day after my…implosion, and realised really where I was, and who I was with, I was…mortified.  But stuck.  I couldn’t just throw all his care and concern back in his face.  

I really enjoy the relationship we’ve built.  I enjoy the banter.  He has, as they say, a quick wit and a ready mind.  I don’t know if I’m willing to give that up for sex, no matter how my bits throb.

And then there’s the D/s thing.  I’ve never really had any other kind of relationship, so I don’t really have anything with which to compare it.  I don’t even know what that would mean with Tom.  I’m a little frightened of trying again.  I want to protect myself from ever going through that kind of hurt and heartache again.  

But it’s not like touching a hot stove, is it?  If you get burned by touching a hot stove you could protect yourself by never going near one again.  But you can’t do that with people and relationships, can you?  To spend a whole life without touching and being touched, for fear of being hurt again?  To let James rule the rest of my life through fear?  

What a horrifying thought.

I realised what a very different person I had become around James, back then.  Quiet, unobtrusive, meek.  Me, meek! Now I know it wasn’t meekness, it was fucking fear.  And not just fear of him, but fear of myself, too…

I had so desperately wanted his approval, his care, his love.  So badly that I mistook his care OF me as care FOR me, for 'love'.  God.  He had been so caring with me afterwards, always.  Now I can see it for what it really was.  He wasn’t caring for me, he was caring for his toy.  Just the way he cared for his other toys after he’d used them, washing them, inspecting them, and putting them away.  Cleaning me, massaging lotion into my welts, making sure I was tucked up in bed before he left…it was all part of taking care of his fucktoys.  
   
Tears welled in my eyes.  If he hadn’t tried to give me away, to pimp me out, no doubt I’d still be with him.  I wish he’d been the man that I’d convinced myself that he was.  I suppose I ought to be grateful to the odious William.  He demonstrated for me exactly how the pretty packaging doesn’t necessarily match the contents, and let me see past my misapprehensions of James.  I’d had a lucky escape.  
   
But now?  I have to wonder about Tom.  Obviously I can’t trust my own judgement, when it comes to men.  He said he wants me.  My heart surged at the thought.  Not one other person on this earth has ever said that to me.  I think I want him, too.  But.   

Can I withstand another disappointment?  Could I stand it if Tom disappointed me?  Could I stand it if I disappointed Tom??  I think disappointing Tom might kill me…  
I don’t… actually know what he was offering.  To be my Dom, yes.  A sexual relationship, yes.  But anything more?  Fuck.  Is that what I want?  I could very easily love Tom.  

I already do, in a way.  He’s been so incredibly sweet to me, how could I not love him, even in the short while I’d known him?  But to move into a sexual relationship, and lose that?  His friendship means so much to me, already.

I look into my glass, swirling the last sip or two around.  I’m already 4 fingers down, but I haven’t come to any conclusions.  Do I want Tom?  God, yes.  Would it be good for me?  For him?  I don’t fucking know.

For once, I did the smart thing.  I set my glass down and made my way to bed.  
***  
I woke the next morning to my door buzzer.  I stumbled blearily out of bed.  What the fuck time is it?  The sun is up, anyway. I trooped out to my front door and peeked through the peephole.  Tom.  God.  
   
I unlocked the door, and turned away, heading for tea, and whatever fresh hell today will bring.  I heard him come in behind me and close the door.  My hands went through the motions of making tea, a soothing automatic morning ritual.   
   
I felt Tom come to the kitchen doorway and stand watching me.  I don’t look at him, I can’t.  I still have no idea what I’m going to say.  I just stand waiting for the kettle to boil.  I pour out two cups, and leaving his on the counter, I take mine to the table and sit staring into it.

I took a deep breath.  "You’re the best girlfriend I ever had.“

Tom choked, and grinned.  "Why, thank you, darling!”   
   
My small smile slid off my face, and I sat slowly up, staring down into my tea, praying for the right words.

“That’s… actually my problem.  Seriously, Tom, I… I really love this, right here,” I gestured between us, “I can’t bear the thought that this thing, this dynamic that we have between us will be lost.  You’ve made me feel like your friend, your equal…  And I’m not quite sure how to deal with that in the context of a sexual… James always… James never…  Shit!  I don’t want to talk about that, him with you…  But you see, he’s my only frame of reference for a, um, sexual relationship.  So, I’m completely at sea, here.  
   
But Tom, I don’t think I can just have a, um, sexual relationship.  I get attached, you see.  That’s all it was supposed to be with James, but…  I fucked it up.  I made James into a fantasy and fell in love with him.  I ignored every warning, every hint that he was not the man I wanted him to be.  I convinced myself that I was the one at fault, that he was…nearly perfect, and that anything that contradicted my fantasy was a result of my own fuckedupness.

I don’t understand how I can be so…competent in the rest of my life, how I can run a successful business and all that, but be so unsure, so helpless, so fucking stupid when it comes to my love life.  And I can talk to you about that as my friend.  But as a lover?  I don’t know how to do that… It hurts my heart to think of losing you as a friend…”

Tears spilled out of my eyes, and my throat closed up.  Tom made a move toward me, but I held my hand up in a warding gesture.  "Don’t.“ I choked out.  

I got up and fetched a box of tissues, wiping my eyes.  I finally got the nerve to look at Tom.  He was sitting there a watching me with that crease between his eyes that shows he’s paying attention, thinking.

"I love that we laugh together, and I don’t want to give that up,” my voice dropped down to a whisper, “even though you nearly killed me yesterday, by leaving me in that state.”    
I felt tears threaten and I swallow hard around the sudden lump in my throat.  I knew I had to confess, but, oh lord, I didn’t want to.  I twisted my fingers together in my lap and watched them as I pushed my confession out of my mouth.  "I… yesterday, you made me… wet.“   
   
That last word was barely a whisper.  I flinched, waiting for the cutting remarks about being a slut, or accusations that I had 'started’ without him.  James would have…  

I dared a glance up at his reaction.  What I saw absolutely floored me.  He looked…pleased?

I worked some spit up into my mouth so I could choke out "You, you’re not …angry with me?”

Instantly, his face changed, the smile dropping right off as if it had never been.  Now he did look angry…

“Did he teach you that?  That you can expect to be punished for… your body reacting normally  to stimulation?”  
   
“Tom… please don’t be…are you angry with me?”  I couldn’t help the tears that want to fall.

Suddenly, I was in his lap and he was cuddling me, raining small kisses down on my hair and forehead.  "Oh, sweet, I’m not angry at you!  Is…is that what you expect a relationship with me to be?  Oh, darling…“ he sighed.

I sat up from him and looked away.  "You see?  I’m afraid that, that he… ruined me.  That he will be in the room, hovering over my shoulder every time we…  I don’t want you to be…unhappy with me, or, or disappointed.”

“Oh, darling, don’t you know that everyone worries about that at least a little bit after a breakup?  You’re not ruined,” he smiled at me confidently, “you may have been taught to react in certain ways to certain situations, but all that means is that we find the ones you don’t enjoy,” he pulled me back against his warm body and snuffled into my hair, kissing my temple, “and we write some good memories over them, make some new reactions, explore some new things.”  

Tom pulled away and grinned down at me.  "He really was an idiot, you know!  I can’t imagine any bloke wanting to tone down your responses!  I can’t imagine anything more erotic than your body…“ he lowered his voice and growled into my ear, ” responding to me and the things I’m doing to you…“

My breath caught in my throat, the catch an audible gasp.  
   
"You are so beautiful like this…  Ellie, I’m not asking you to trade our friendship for sex.  I like you, like what we have together.  This…this is just another part of it.  I wouldn’t, I couldn’t ask this if I didn’t know you for the sweet, intelligent, funny, passionate girl you are.”

I turned my face to him, and his mouth sought mine, his hand going to the back of my head and guiding it gently.  After thoroughly tasting every part of my mouth, he lifted his head and stared down into my eyes, his blue gaze flicking back and forth between my grey ones.

“Stand up, Ellie” he said quietly.  I slid off his lap apprehensively and stood watching as he unfolded himself slowly from his chair.  He grasped my hand and brought the back of it up to his mouth for a firm kiss.

“I think a trial run may be in order.  Today, we’re going to try things out.  A bit of vanilla to start, I think…  If you’re ready, your body will show us.  If you’re not, well, it’ll show us that too.  You and I, we’ll figure these things out.”

I can’t help a little snort at the thought that goes through my head, and I clap my hand over my mouth to keep it in.  James always hated when I laughed.  I think he thought I was laughing at him.

Tom reaches over and gently removes my hand, and with an expectant grin, he says, “Now, what was that thought?  Go on, tell me…” he says with an encouraging nod, waiting.

I laugh a little uncomfortably.  "Oh, um, I was just thinking that only yesterday I was making a resolution not to run my life according to the whims of a wet pussy…“

He burst out laughing.  "That might be a good general rule, but personally,” his eyebrow climbs to a rakish angle, he looks like the devil, “I make it a priority to listen to the whims of wet pussies.”

I paused a beat to take this in.  Then I couldn’t help the snickers that burst out of me, escalating into an honest-to-god fit of giggles.

“God, ” I said, “Red Carpets must be pure hell for you!”

“Oh, darling,” he purrs, “you have no idea!”

I’m giggling wildly at the image of him in my head.

He hugs me tight.  "Darling girl, you have the most golden laugh,“ he murmurs.  "Your laughter is a wondrous thing, and I intend to hear so much more of it.”  
He turned us toward the doorway and took my hand.

“Show me your bed.”

He knows where my bed is.  He’s been in there, helping me flip my mattress after James…  No.  I didn’t want James in my fucking head right then.

Tom hasn’t seen my new bed.  I could hardly wait to get rid of the old one, and I’m so pleased with the new one.  I’d got a new bed frame, as well as the plush new mattress set.  I’d always wanted a four poster bed, and I’d found one with the most marvelous floral and vine motif carvings on the head and foot boards.  Not to mention the vines and leaves twining up the posts.  It looks like, like The Fairy Queen’s bed.  I’d chosen new linens as well,  a duvet in moss green and blue-green spruce.  I’d rearranged my room, too, putting the bed against the opposite wall and installing a wide floor to ceiling bookcase.

I looked up at him as he waited patiently for me.  My eyes traced over his hair and face.  His hair is a little longer now for the new role.  I like it.  I’m so glad they haven’t chosen to put him in the dark hair again.  He always looks so austere when he’s dark.  Not that it isn’t sexy as hell, but it’s also a little…scary?  Yeah.  But when he’s in his natural red-gold?  As he is now?  Fuck. Me.

My eyes roamed over his features, watching his calm, confident expression.  That confidence is his most attractive feature.  I could see that he was paying just as close attention to my expressions.  I wonder what my face was telling him.

I suddenly realized all over again how very tall he is.

I looked back into his eyes.  I saw…patience.  Desire?  Oh yes, I could see that burning blue flame in his eyes.  But there’s no coercion, no force or threat in his eyes.  No.  What I see is…encouragement.  My soul drank that encouragement, that tiny push to accept what he wants to give.  Oh, yes…

His chin came up, his eyebrows tightened.  His lips firmed and thinned.  The encouragement morphed.  My god, he couldn’t say this any clearer without words: 'Choose’.

I swallowed hard, felt tears begin to gather.  There isn’t anything in his face that says, 'Whore. Slut. Fucktoy.’  No, his face says: 'Choose me and I will take care of you.’  
His desire for me -me!- was naked on his face.  He watched my face keenly, his tongue moistened his lower lip and his eyes hooded.

Fuck. Me.

My head dipped down and I nodded.  Tom reached for my hand and squeezed it reassuringly, and nodded back at me in reply.  I turned and drew him along by the hand behind me.  When I reached my bedroom door, I put my hand on the knob and turned to look at Tom over my shoulder.

He was watching my every move intently.  Did he know?  I knew, if I were honest, that I’d wanted this since the second day I’d known him.  When he’d asked my opinion about his morgue…kitchen.  And then fucking listened to my answer.  I mean, seriously, how the fuck was I supposed to fight that?  He asked me a fucking question, and he fucking paid attention when I fucking answered him!

I drew a deep breath before twisting the doorknob and letting Tom into my …sanctuary.  My place.  The place I can be when I need to be in my place.  If that makes any sense.  
I tilted my head back and watched his face as he took in my transformed room.  His hands went to my shoulders, squeezing them.  After a moment he tore his gaze away from my bed and looked down into my face.  His hand slid into my hair and captured me for a kiss, tasting my lips.

“It’s lovely now.  It’s very 'you’, darling, isn’t it?  His thumb stroked my lower lip and held my chin, as he leaned in for another kiss.

I must have stopped breathing, because when he released my mouth and stood back watching me, I gasped and suddenly felt oxygen flowing through my body again.  Bloody hell.  I’m going to have to re-learn how to breathe around this Tom.   
   
He angled his head and kissed my forehead, took my hand and led me to the side of my bed.  He lifted me and sat me next to him on the edge of the mattress, slid his arm around my shoulders, snugging me into his side.  My new bed was so high that my feet dangled several inches above the carpet.  It makes me feel like a little kid when I climb into it every night.  But Tom’s feet were firmly on the floor.

"Ellie.”  Tom’s other hand turned my face up to his, and drew a fingertip over my lip, as he looked down into my eyes.  "You always have the right to say no, and I will always honour that.  I will never force you.  I will always be truthful and respectful of you.  I’m…honored that you’ve allowed me to be here.“  His eyes flickered around the room, and back to me.   
   
"I need you to be honest with me, always.  I need you to tell me when something upsets you.  I need you to let me take care of you…  Do you think you can do that?”  I bit my lip and nodded.

“Say it, Ellie.”  He stroked my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“Yes,  …” Shit!  I stopped abruptly, frozen.  I was going to say 'Sir’, but I couldn’t call him by the same name I’d called James.  I just couldn’t!  I was immediately lost.  How could I do this when I didn’t even fucking know what to call him?  He must have seen my conflict in my face.

His eyes crinkled and he smiled kindly as he stroked my cheek again.  "Call me Tom, Ellie.  I’m still the person I was yesterday.“  He paused.  "Tell me your limits, darling.”  
Why is this so fucking difficult to do?  It’s Tom.  I’ve already talked to him about these things.  Some of them anyway.  Fuck!  I swallowed hard.

“Please…please don’t ever lie to me, Tom.”  My voice started out a bare whisper, but got a little stronger as I went on.  "I don’t like blood or pain.  I’ve had my fill of beatings…“  His arm tightened around my shoulders.  "Please don’t…degrade me or call me names.”  I felt my face heat, and a lurch of fear clenched in my stomach.  "No anal.“

I watched him carefully through my lashes for signs of anger or disappointment.  All I found was acceptance and encouragement.

"Alright love, anything else?”

“Um.  Condoms?”

“Yes.”

Tom leaned over and kissed my temple, whispering into my hair, “What’s your safeword, Ellie?”

I looked at him.  I trust him, I do.  But I was…scared, too.  Well, anxious anyway.  I felt as though I were standing at the edge of a cliff, contemplating a dive into the warm ocean below.  I know that the water is warm and welcoming, but that first step…

“Can it just be 'stop’, for now?” I whispered.

“Of course it can, darling.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled.  If my smile was a little wobbly, I couldn’t help it.

Tom stood up and pulled me into his arms.  "We’re going slowly and gently today, darling.  You have nothing to fear, I promise you.“  He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and kissed me.

His tongue stroked over mine so sweetly, so delicately I could scarcely believe it was a kiss.  Having him trace along my lips and tongue, even the edges of my teeth…damn.  This was the best fucking kiss of my life.  He lured me out of my own mouth, and oh, I wanted to follow…anywhere…everywhere.  I felt the tell-tale warm flush spreading across my chest, my nipples tightening into hard little rocks, hypersensitive to the brush of the fabric of my own shirt.   
   
This kiss could not possibly have been more different than James’.

Even as I thought this, his fingertips closed over my right nipple, through my clothing, twisting and tugging, caressing and teasing.  Oh, god, I have never wanted anything more than to have his bare hand on my bare breast, his skin on mine.

Tom lifted my hand and kissed my fingertips gently before setting my hand at the top button of his dark linen shirt.  The linen was so soft under my fingers as I stroked it.    
This shirt is… his hand brought my fingers back to his top button, making it clear without a word, that he wanted me to unbutton him.  I slipped the button through its hole, moving down to the next button, his hand lightly atop mine, guiding me to each button as his lips skim and tease mine.  Finally unbuttoned, he pulled his shirt tails out of his waistband and the shirt fell open, the soft navy linen hanging from and framing the centre of his chest.

He pulled away from my mouth and watched me as he held my wrists and slid both my hands over the exposed skin of his body, taut and smooth, with the hard firmness of muscle under the warm velvet surface.  I could hardly believe that he let me, encouraged me even, to touch him.  His body was a firm, strong anchor in a sea of emotion.    
I leaned forward and nuzzled my nose into the small patch of red-gold hair, planting a soft kiss over his heart.  He tilted my head up with a finger under my chin and kissed me again, deeper, more hungrily.   
   
He twined his fingers with mine, pulling both my hands around to the small of his back, wrapping my arms around him tighter and tighter until my entire body was pressed up against him from chest to thigh.  He was so warm and hard…no, solid.  Well, hard too.  Standing there with his feet spread, mine tucked between, towering over me, pulling me into his body.  I was utterly surrounded by him.

Transferring both of my wrists to one large hand behind his back, he freed the other hand to glide over the outside of my hip to my bottom, the hand grasping and kneading the flesh there.  Suddenly his hand and forearm contracted and he lifted me, pushing a leg between mine, sliding my centre up the slope of the large muscular thigh between my legs.  He made a small noise of dissatisfaction, or frustration and released my wrists, stepping back.  Did I do something wrong?  How could I have done anything wrong as caged and immobile as he had held me?

"You’re wearing entirely too many clothes, my darling.  I want to feel you on my skin.”  And he grasped the hem of my tee, sliding it up over my head and tossing it to the floor.  Just as quickly his clever fingers stripped my knickers from me.  He inhaled jaggedly, as he looked down at my nude body, reached out a large hand and palmed my breast, squeezing and kneading.

“Oh Ellie, I’ve waited so long to touch you like this… These,” he lifted both my breasts, “are so beautiful, your nipples so tender and pink.  You have no idea what a temptation they were when I stripped you and put you into my shirt that  night.”  

His fingertips feathered out over the outside curves of my breasts, both thumbs nesting over my thundering heart for a moment.

His hands left my breasts and slid around my body to my arse, cupping and lifting.  His thigh slid back between my legs and he slowly pulled my core up the incline of that smooth, trouser-clad hard thigh.  I knew I must be leaving a trail of moisture behind to dampen the fabric of his trouser leg.  I whimpered.  The feel of my aroused hard clit dragging against his leg nearly sent me into orbit, the contact harsh and dry.  It was all I could do to restrain myself from wildly humping his thigh to get more of the delicious friction.  I cried out instead.

Tom picked me up and smoothly laid me on the bed, then stood, his hands going to his belt and unbuckling it as he watched me.  I reached out, wanting to help, to touch, but he shook his head at me.  I let my hands fall, and bit my lip as I watched him strip his trousers off.  God, he’s fucking beautiful.

He climbed onto the bed and hovered above me, his arms on either side of my head, his knees caging my hips.  I had to tilt my head back to seek his face, looking up at him.  How did he make me feel so safe, so protected, yet so vulnerable?  So…cherished?

At last he moved, leaning down and taking my mouth in a searing kiss, as he worked his knees between my legs.  Pulling back, he sat up on his heels and ran his hands down my torso.  Once again I reached to touch him.

He tsked at me, lifting my hands to the headboard.  "Can you keep your hands there, love?“

He’s asking me?  I nodded.  I closed my eyes tight against the tears that want to well up.  James would have wrenched my hands together and tied them, he’d never have simply asked me to keep them there.  He’d never have trusted me to do what he wanted of me…

Tom continued to smooth his hands over me hypnotically, before he moved to caress my breasts, feathering his fingers over and around, tracing smaller and smaller circles around them.  My nipples were both standing tight and hard, and when he finally touched them, I gasped as electricity ignited them.  My back arched and a pleading sound came out of me.

Tom drove me wild with his attentions to my breasts, nuzzling and licking, tasting my skin.  Soon he was nipping and dragging his stubbled cheek across the delicate sensitive skin.  When he began to suckle, oh my God, it felt like he was going to suck my clit out through my tits!

"Tom…please…” I couldn’t help whimpering, “please fuck me… I need you…”

He drove smoothly, slowly into me, his hands clenching, digging into the flesh of my arse.  It was painful in only the very best way.  One more thrust and Jesus, where the hell did that come from?  A small tremor ran through me, herald to the unexpected short, sharp orgasm that flew through me.  So fast that I almost wondered if it had truly happened, but the delicious clenching of my interior proved it’s truth.  

He leaned back, separating our bodies to look down the length of me to our connection.  He gave another long slow stroke through the last of the ripples of my orgasm, and his eyes found mine, heavy lidded and smiling.

“That was fast…god you feel so good around me, so tight and strong.  I love how you respond to me, darling… Ah, fuck…”  Another long slow stroke, but with a grind at the end, at my end.  Oh god, I could feel him right up against my cervix.  A tiny delicious cramp bloomed in my belly, and suddenly he was thrusting hard, penetrating me over and over, battering my cervix with his cockhead with every stroke.

Tom clutched my breast in a desperate grip.  My breath was gasping and grunting out of me with the force of every thrust.  That warning tremor coursed through me.

“T-Tom, god, I need to come…please, please…!”

“Oh yes, darling,” he crooned in my ear, “oh, good girl, come for me…”  He shifted his angle and surged against me.

“Right there, oh god…Tom!  Right…!”  The nova exploded in my core, light blazing forth, washing a tsunami of sensation through my body and into him.

“Fuck!  Christ!  Ellie, oh Ellie, so good, ah, good girl, fuck me Ellie, god, fuck.  me.”  The words tumbled out of his mouth.  He threw his head back so far, straining back, lost in his release, his hips pushed so hard into mine, his stroke stilled, and after long heart thumping moments his body relaxed with a cry.

He fell forward onto me, his body utterly encasing mine, crushing me to the mattress, and that, his weight coming to rest on me, his pelvic bone grinding against my clit with his last few spasms, triggered another one for me.  I came with a muffled cry, my head buried in his chest, my sex spasmed around his softening cock, milking the last little bit from him.

Tom lifted up on one elbow, and looked down at me, in surprise, I think.  I looked up at my hands.  "Can I…?  He nodded, and I brought a hand down and traced his cheek, wiping the small beads of moisture from his hairline.

As he slipped out of me, he settled on his back, tugging me to sprawl half over him, my head tucked under his chin.  One arm was around me, holding my chest to his, his large palm cupping the back of my head.  The other arm reached across his body to hold my arse.

I could hear a faint rumbling through his chest, and I realised that he was crooning deep in his throat, almost purring in contentment. I’m gonna fucking cry happy tears…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a difficult chapter coming up soon. I won't be adding it to the Hard Limits timeline because it's a flashback, and it's pretty horrible. You're perfectly ok if you don't want to read it, Hard Limits will still make sense. But be forewarned, if you choose to read it, it will be abusive and bloody and awful and non-con. It's called 'Bite', and will be up sometime in the next day or two.  
> In the meantime, enjoy Ellie. And the kudos button and comment button are right there! Love to hear from anyone who has something to say!


	14. Chapter 14

No!  I’m not going to cry.  Not even happy tears, dammit!  I roll my face into Tom’s chest, breathing him in deeply, letting the lump in my throat fade.

Tom’s hand moved to play idly with my curls, pulling a strand straight and letting it wind back around his finger, over and over.  Its very hypnotic.  Soothing.

“Guess I’m not dead below the neck after all… Thank you, Tom.”  I murmured.

He chuckled. “You were worried?”

“Of course I was fucking worried!  I…” I snap my teeth shut, looking at him a little fearfully.  Don’t fuck this up already, Ellie!  Jeez.  

"Sorry.“  I hid my face in my arm and cringed inwardly a little.  Tom’s hand is now buried in my hair, and he gives it a firm tug, turning my face to his, studying it, me.

"I told you, I don’t know how to…”

Tom pulled me to him, interrupting me, and kissed my forehead loudly.  

"You need breakfast.  Go start the tea, I’ll be out in a minute.“  He untangled himself from me and swung out of bed, stripping the condom off.  I watched him stride nude into the bath, letting him distract me just a little from my anxiety.  Some.  

Damn he has a fine arse, though.  I could watch the play of the muscles in his backside as he moves all day long…

I haul myself out off the bed, thumping to the carpet from the ridiculously high bed.  High beds seem to be the fashion, now.  I even have a little two-step stool to help me get up into it!

Tea.  I can do that.  I grab some knickers and an oversized tee from my dresser, haul them on, and make my way out to the kitchen to carry out my instructions.  Orders…?

After setting the water to heat and assembling pot and cups, I open the refrigerator, gazing at the contents, wondering what Tom would like for breakfast.  Speak of the devil.  He appeared behind me and dropped a kiss on my neck, nudging me out of his way.

 

"I’ll do that.  Go pour out the tea.  Remember,” he held up an admonishing finger, “milk in first!”  He turned me towards the counter with a small slap on my bum.  I huffed and rolled my eyes, remembering his impromptu lecture on the proper way to put milk in tea.  Jeez, I swear he’d gone on for like, ten freaking minutes about it. Only Tom could deliver a lecture about milk and tea and keep you hanging on his every word…

I fixed us both tea -milk in first!- and set his on the counter near him, before taking my own to the table and sitting.  My insides are churning.  I pull up my feet up onto my chair and tuck my over-large tee over my knees, snuggling the hem under my toes.

I watched Tom rummaging in my refrigerator, hauling out a tomato, fresh herbs, eggs, cheese, sausages.  He’s put his trousers and shirt back on, but left the shirt unbuttoned, and his feet bare.  

Why are his bare feet so sexy?  They aren’t even pretty, all knotty and veiny…  I sigh.  He’s so comfortable in his own skin, with his own body.  Seeing him like this makes me want to bolt back to my bedroom and get fully dressed.  I feel like a pale, soft, slug next to him.  

I watch as he continues to move confidently around my kitchen.  He unerringly finds what he wants, seemingly intuiting exactly which drawer or cupboard to open for the item he seeks.

“How do you do that?” I muse, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?  Do what?”

“Find everything you’re looking for in a strange kitchen?”

He glances over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows raised.  "It’s not a strange kitchen, darling, I’ve been in here with you several times…besides, you have a very logical layout; utensils there,“ he points at the drawer next to the sink, "pots and pans there, tins here, dishes above the dishwasher.”  He shrugs.  "Simple. Just exactly as I would arrange it…“ He pauses, his head tilted, thinking.  Uh oh…

I thought too.  I thought about our morning.  The sex was good- jeez, after three orgasms, what’s to complain about?!

"This morning was wonderful, Tom.”  I offered.

He turned from the stove, the fork he used to turn the sausages in the pan still in his hand.  He regarded me seriously a moment.  My heart sank.

“You’re lovely, Ellie,” he said cryptically.  He turned back to the stove and began dishing up the food.  He turned back with our plates in his hands.

“Look at you, Ellie.  All curled up in a defensive ball.  All covered up.”

I glanced down.  He was right.  I was all covered up, even my toes.

“You do not look like a woman who just had ‘wonderful’ sex.”  He set my plate in front of me, and caressed the side of my face, tucking a curl back behind my ear.

“Three, count 'em, three orgasms, Tom!  What’s not wonderful about that?!”  I defended.  Why did I feel defensive?

“Eat.” he commanded.

I held my tongue and did as he bid.  We ate in silence.  It was very good, and I told him so.  He nodded in acknowledgement, as he continued to eat.  And think.  Shit.  I could see the little lines between his eyebrows deepen.  I could feel the atmosphere between us thickening, my own tension and anxiety ratcheting upward.  At last, I couldn’t eat any more.  The tension in my body enough to make reappearance of my breakfast a possibility.  I set my knife and fork down on my plate and picked up my tea.  

I know where this is going.  He will be all, 'So long and thanks for all the fish...’ Tom’s just trying to find the polite words to say, to tell me that it’s been lovely, but he really must be going…

Tom took our plates to the sink, rinsing them and stacking them in the dishwasher.  I chewed a thumbnail as I watched.  I have no earthly idea what to say next, so I kept my mouth shut.  At last, Tom turned, drying his hands on a tea towel.  He leaned back against the counter, crossing his ankles and picking up his tea, sipping, watching me.  He spoke.

"Ellie, you don’t have to stroke my ego, love.  This morning was a lovely little bit of vanilla…  But you and I, we can do so much better than that.”

I’m confused.  Do better?  I blinked.  Better than three orgasms?  He’s not leaving?

“Ellie, you’re a strong, beautiful woman.  I want you to be the amazing woman that you are, the best version of yourself that you can be.  This morning was very informative.  …He’s taught you to be passive…not submissive.”

Wait.  There’s a difference?  I’m pretty sure the dictionary says those words are synonymous… I could feel the frown forming on my face, and hastily smoothed it out.

“Are you cold?” he asked abruptly, surprising me with his sudden change of topics.

“Um.  No. I’m fine.”  I assured him.

“Good,” he said, then he strode across to me and went down on one knee in front of me.  Crap!  Fucking crap!  Every woman in the western world must feel that unexpected lurch, deep inside when a man gets down on one knee…  I held very still, gaping at him, praying that he’s not going to do something utterly foolish.  

I want to shout  'No! Get up!  Don’t even think about it!’  Some of my horror must have shown on my face, because the corner of his mouth tilted upward, and he said, “Don’t worry, love.”

Then he plucked my hand from where it was clutching my knee, and turned it over, and planted a soft kiss in the center of my palm.  Holding that hand, he reached for my other hand and kissed that palm, too.  I watched him, curious.

He lifted both my hands over my head, and took his hand away, leaving my hands in the air.  Then he reached for the hem of my tee, tugging it loose from my toes, and pulled it over my head and off, leaving me sitting there in only my knickers, with my hands in the air.  I waited as his eyes roamed over me.

He cupped both my breasts, brushing his thumbs over my nipples.  I gasped.

“These really are exquisite, darling.  So responsive.  Look at them harden.  I can feel your whole breasts tighten in my palms.”

I looked down at my chest.  Yep.  Hard as rocks.

He bent and kissed one breast sweetly, before sucking my nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and over it.  His hand mimicked the movements of his tongue on my other breast.  When he sucked my nipple through his teeth, scraping it lightly, he simultaneously scraped and pulled the other nipple with his short nails.  He bit very lightly down, flicking his tongue across the turgid tip, before doing the same to its mate.  Mmmm.

 

I waited to see what he’d do next. He looked into my face as he straightened, and I swallowed.  I’ve no idea what my face is telling him, but the corner of his mouth is doing that thing.  He reaches for my tee and gently dresses me again, pulling my hands down at last.  They were getting heavy up there.

Tom stood and went back to his tea, to take up his position against the counter once again.  That was…interesting.  It feels good when he touches my breasts.

He regarded me for a moment over his tea.  What was that all about?  He set his tea back on the counter and straightened, his look sharpening.  He ran his tongue out and licked his lower lip.

“Stand up, Ellie.”  Surprised, I stood.  A beat, two beats passes.

“Take off your shirt,” he said firmly.

I gaped at him.  What?  He just put it back on me!  If he’d wanted it off, why didn’t he just leave the damn thing off?!  All these thoughts run through my head as he stares expectantly at me, his eyes dark, demanding.  Waiting.  Ok, then.  I don’t know why, but if he wants me to take it off again, I’ll do it.

I puled my shirt off over my head -again!- and dropped it on the floor, standing there tits out, across the room from him.

“Clasp your hands behind your back,” he ordered quietly.

My breath began to come a little faster.  I glanced down my body as I did as I was told.  Holding my wrists behind my back lifted my chest and thrust my breasts out, as if I were begging him to touch.  That would be ok with me.  More than ok.

Tom stood -all the way across the room!- scrutinizing me carefully, for ages.  I could almost feel his eyes glide across my skin.  I began to tremble, feeling my heart begin to race, my nipples begin to peak again, my pussy clenching, as he stared at me, that look on his face. 

 I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s definitely his 'Dom’ face.  Damn, I’m getting wet and he hasn’t even touched me…  I swallowed and looked down at the floor, blushing.

“Ellie, don’t take your eyes off me!” he rapped out.

I jerked my gaze back to his.  What I saw there made me gasp and nearly squirm.  Desire, lust blazing in his eyes.  I swear to god I’m going to start dripping down my leg any second now.

“Come here.”  He looked stern, almost grim, his lips tight.  
There was a small voice in the back of my head warning me; You don’t want to do that, stupid girl!  Run away now before he eats you up!  I trembled with the need to save myself from him.  It was fucking primal… The predator staring at his prey.

“Now, Ellie.”  And this time there’s warning in his voice.  Shit!  I managed to take a small step, my heart in my throat, but I honestly don’t know in which direction I was going to move, as I kept my eyes glued to his.  His eyes softened the tiniest bit at my movement, beckoning me.

I blew out a breath and my steps turned toward him, his eyes drawing me like magnets.  When did my kitchen become three miles wide?  It seemed to take forever to cross the floor to Tom.  At last I stopped in front of him, looking up.

“Closer,” he murmured.  I took the final step.  It brought me just close enough that my breasts brushed against him.  I felt his body quiver just slightly.  He dipped his head, his mouth hovering beside my ear.  
“What do you want, Ellie?” his voice low and demanding.  

Oh fuck.  What do I want?!  I fucking wanted him to touch me, to kiss me, to do any damn thing he wanted to me as long as he fucking did it soon!

In the end, that’s exactly what I told him.  He smiled at me knowingly.  His hand leapt to the back of my head and gripped a handful of my hair, and pulled my head back firmly.  His other hand gripped my hip and pulled me up flush against his body, his erection grinding into my belly.

His lips descended onto my neck, nipping and licking.  When he sucked the delicate skin into his mouth and pulled, I thought I’d come apart.

“Ahh!  Tom!  Please…”  I pled.  He simply carried on ravishing my neck.  I found my hips were pushing back against him, rubbing up against him like a damn cat on heat.  He groaned, the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.  Then he lifted his head and released me.  My knees wobbled, and my pussy throbbed with want.

He scooped me up and strode over to my chair, sitting me down in it firmly.  

What?!  No!  Take me into the bedroom, you oaf!  Or just fucking take me!  Pity I didn’t have the courage to say that lot out loud… I just made a whining noise of protest.   But he stood, with a kiss in my hair, and moved back to his spot against the counter.

I sat staring at him with my mouth hanging open.  Why did he stop??  Didn’t he enjoy that as much as I did?  I took a good long look at him.  He was a little flushed.  He was breathing rapidly.  And his cock looked like it was going to break his zipper.  Hmm.

“That’s the difference, Ellie.  The difference between passive and submissive is your willing, active participation, darling.”  He took a deep breath and adjusted himself with a rueful smile.  "You can see how you, your submission, affects me. And, oh love, I can see how it affects you, as well.“

"You can let go your wrists now, Ellie,” he offered with a smile.  

What?  Christ!  I’d completely forgotten!  I let them go and rolled my shoulders to ease the strain of having held them back for so long.

“As I said, he’s taught you to be passive, to let him simply do whatever.  Tell me darling, did you ever just find yourself lying back and thinking of England?”  His eyes twinkled at me.  

Fuck, how does he know that?!  "Ireland.“ I corrected with a grin.

"I want your participation, Ellie, your submission.  I want you to give yourself, your real beautiful self, to me.  He had you restraining yourself, muting your responses.  I want to help you find expression in your responses.  I want to find out what drives your responses higher.  I want to drive out the chatter in your brain, and just feel… Your submission is a beautiful thing Ellie, a gift.  One I will treasure as I cherish you.”

At that he returned to me at last, to pull me to a stand.  He wrapped long arms around me, laying his cheek on my hair.  "We’re not going to have merely 'wonderful’ darling.  Together we’re going to have so much more.“

He sat in my chair, pulling me into his lap and tipping my face up to his, with a finger under my chin.

"We’re going to make some rules, Ellie.  If we’re going to make this work we’ll need to be honest with each other.  We need to know what we can expect of each other, and agree on the ground rules.  I’ll expect you to follow them, and you need to know that I will, too.  We’re both in this together, so we’re going to make the rules together.  And the consequences for breaking them.”

I stirred.  Rules?  I’m pretty good at following rules. But the consequences thing has me a bit worried.

"You can count on me to chastise you as necessary, and I’ll warn you, I can be pretty diabolical”  he lifted an eyebrow at me.  "A punishment spanking is not for fun, and I promise you, it won’t be fun for you at all.  But darling, I promise you, I will never lift a hand to you in anger.  I will never beat on you to relieve my own frustrations.  I will only ever punish you with your consent, for your benefit, to help you learn, to help you improve yourself.  And your safeword will always be honoured.  I’m not going to leave you if you use it.  I’m not going to leave you or withhold affection because you break a rule.  But you can count on punishment if you do break an agreed upon rule.  And when it’s over, it’s over, darling.  No guilt, no recriminations. Taking a punishment wipes the slate clean, right?

I nodded.  "Ok.“  I’m not too worried about punishments.  Well, not from Tom.  I’m not particularly naughty.  If I know what the rules are, and that he won’t capriciously change them without notice, then I’ll follow them, no problem.  I’m more relieved, -hell, fucking ecstatic!- to hear him promise not to hit me in anger, or to take out his bad moods on me.  His words feel like a warm blanket keeping me safe, even from him.

"Now, bath or shower?” he asked me.

“Um.  Whichever you prefer, Tom.”

He poked me in the ribs, startling a yelp out of me.  He raised an eyebrow, and said “Participation, remember?”

“Yes, Tom,” I replied, “but in this case I really don’t mind one way or the other.  Um…that’s assuming that you plan on being in there with me?  Because I definitely have an opinion about that!”

He laughed.  "Oh no, darling!  You’re not getting shut of me so easily as that!  I’m not nearly done with you… Shower it is then.  You go start the water warming, while I finish tidying up.“  He pushed me off his lap and steadied me while I stood, and gave me a playful smack on my bum.

"Off you go.  And don’t forget to brush your teeth!  You taste of breakfast, and breakfast is definitely over!”

I watched him over my shoulder as I left the room.  He didn’t move or take his eyes of me until I rounded the doorway.  In my bedroom, I quickly tidied the bedclothes before going into the bath and making sure I had clean towels.  

I started the shower while I brushed my teeth.  Then I found a new toothbrush still in the package at the back of my vanity drawer, and set it on the sink for Tom.  

I mulled over what had just happened in the kitchen.  Damn.  That little demonstration of his, the intensity, the difference that I’d felt, first passively accepting his taking my shirt off, accepting his touch?  It had felt lovely.  He really does have a talented mouth… 

But then, fuck!  When he’d told me to take my own shirt off, told me what he wanted me to do, and left the choice of whether to follow his direction up to me?!

God help me.  I was damn near to combusting.  That was so hot!  And fuck me, that look on his face as I did as he asked… My hand crept up to cover the spot on my neck that he’d ravished.  A quick glance in the mirror showed no mark, but I swear I can still feel his mouth tugging at my skin.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a little scary bit here.  Tom makes a mistake. He’s human too. The more explicit version of her experience with James is in another story called Bite. I posted that one as a one shot outside of Hard Limits. You don't have to read that to understand this chapter, and you are more than welcome to skip that one. You'll understand well enough when you read this chapter.

With a tap on the door,  Tom pushed it the rest of the way open and stepped through behind me.   “All done.  Remind me to start the dishwasher after our shower?”  I nodded.

“Thank you, Tom.  You didn’t have to do that.”  I pointed to the vanity.  “There’s a fresh toothbrush.  You taste of breakfast, too!  Good thing I like breakfast…”  I grinned at him as I he picked up the new toothbrush, and started to unwrap it.

“Thank you, darling, you take such good care of me… Now, don’t waste the water, in you go!”  He reached out a long finger and snapped at the elastic around my thigh.  "You won’t be needing these,“ he said with a naughty grin, watching me as he slid my knickers down my legs. He looked up at me from his knees and his smile faded.  He reached out and ran his hand from the dip in my waist over the flare of my hip before he stood.

Why should I be blushing?  It’s not like he hasn’t already had a good view of me.  Something…  Ah.  His attention is… appreciative.  Admiring.  Huh.   
   
I stepped into the shower.  Oh, the hot water felt so good sluicing down my body, warming me and draining tensions that I tend to carry between my shoulders.   

Tom stepped in behind me and pulled my body against his, the hard yet welcoming wall of him invading my space, before turning me in his arms.  I looked up at him and he kissed me, a long, slow kiss, his tongue stroking against mine.  At the same time he’s gently swaying us back and forth under the shower head, keeping us both warm.   
   
He pulled out of the kiss with a last suck and tug on my lower lip.  I wanted to cry out with the loss of his mouth.  His eyes fluttered open and looked straight into mine, tiny droplets clinging to his lashes, making little russet points of them.  So pretty.

"Turn around, darling.”  With a last searching glance at his face, I turned.

He reached for my shampoo, and gently washed my hair, his clever fingers massaging my scalp and neck. The scent of orange blossoms enveloped us.  He tipped my head back to rinse it, carefully keeping the suds out of my eyes with a large hand.  Mum used to do that…  He picked up my conditioner and repeated the process, combing his fingers through my temporarily slick, loose hair to catch any knots.

“Good stuff, this,” he mused.  "Wish I’d known about it when my hair was longer, it would have saved me days of pulling tangles apart.“  I looked up at his hair, puzzled, eyebrows climbing.

"You haven’t seen my younger days, my hair was pretty wild.  A bit like yours, really.  But these ‘crazy-ass curls’ as you call them, suit you.  Much better than mine did me.”  He leaned down and murmured in my ear, “Your hair always looks just fucked, even when you aren’t… It’s very sexy.”  He stood straight, and tucked my back against his front, a hand coming up and playing with my breast.  

“Now.  About these rules…”

Oh shit.  I sighed, resigned.  Not the discussion I was hoping for at the moment.  He paused, and I waited nervously for what he might say.

“Well, now,” he said, “There’s a place to start…”  He pulled my finger from my mouth, where I was nibbling on a nail, and held my hand out in front of me where we could both see it.

“Look.  Look at you.  Look at the damage you’re doing to yourself.”  His voice sounded sad.  All of my nails were bitten down to the quick, my cuticles ragged and torn.  I closed my hand into a fist, embarrassed and hiding my ugly hands.  His voice turned harder.

“It stops now, Ellie.  Biting your nails like this until they’re bloody stumps is just another form of self-abuse, on the same continuum as cutting, and I won’t have it.  You have words, Ellie, use them.  Talk to me.  Please.  Or talk to Sharon.  You needn’t take whatever it is out on yourself.  Alright?”

“Al-alright.”  I stuttered, surprised that he noticed.  I mean, everybody treats nail biting as just a bad habit, or at worst, a moral failing of some kind.  But nobody ever stops to look deeper at the self-harm…

“I’m serious, Ellie.  No more, ” he warned, “I’ll lock your hands in mitts, or behind you back, so you can’t get at your fingers at all, if I catch you at it again!”  Jeez.  That tone of voice makes me want to stand up and salute him, and melt into a freaking puddle all at the same time.  And, oof, he seems to think tying my hands is supposed to be a punishment?  Though I can’t say I like the idea of mitts, much.

“You couldn’t pick something a little easier?” I muttered.  "Sometimes I don’t even realise I’m doing it!  It’s going to be really hard!“  I’m this close to whining.

He chuckled.  "Of course it’s going to be hard!  If it were easy, you’d have quit by now!  Obviously you need a little push, a little incentive, and I’m very happy to provide you with one.”  He bit lightly down on my ear.

Then his tone sharpened, grew colder.  "You want easy?  I’ll give you a very easy rule.  Put your hands on the wall, Ellie.“

A chill zipped right up my spine at his tone.  I put my hands on the shower wall.  He pressed his body against my back and placed his hands on the wall alongside mine.  All I could see were his massive hands bracketing my smaller ones.  He fucking loomed over me.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my breath came in a gasp.

"Don’t.  Don’t you ever pull a stunt like you did yesterday!  I will not have you putting yourself in needless, heedless danger like that again!” His voice has gone dark and gravelly.

Right now, I feel in more danger from Tom than I ever did from James.  It’s pissing me off a little bit.  I stiffened.  

"Tom, you saw…what I did to James.  I’m perfectly capable of defending myself!“  

Dammit!  I honestly don’t know if I’m warning him, or myself…

"Ellie,” he growled in my ear, sending another chill down my back, “I’m delighted that you can defend yourself.  I thoroughly approve of you knocking him on his arse and doing whatever was necessary to keep him from harming you!  What upsets me is that you put yourself in a position where you had to do it.  Did you know, or think, that he might get physical with you?”

I nodded.  “But…“

He interrupted.  "You knew that he might have a go at you,” his voice has gone deceptively soft, “You let him into your home, alone, and then you defied him, gave him every reason,” I hear him take a breath in through his nose, “gave him every opportunity to harm you… God, Ellie, when I think what might have happened!  If you’d missed your grip…if he’d had any idea how to defend himself on that level…  You could have been seriously injured, or worse…”  That last came out in a ragged whisper.

Tom’s body suddenly pinned mine to the cold tile wall.  "You will never put your safety in jeopardy in that way again!  Do you hear me?  I will blister your behind so badly, you won’t be able to sit for a week!“ he growled in my ear.

"Yes, Tom.”  Jeez.  I sighed.  He doesn’t get that James was in more danger than I was…

“Ellie.  I could practically hear you rolling your eyes.”  Yeah, well.  He was right about that.

He closed his teeth around the nape of my neck, and my breath froze.  I couldn’t even nod.  "Ok, Tom.“  I choked out.

He bit down a little harder.  Fuck!  I tried to squirm away, but he held me immobile.

"Ow, Tom!  Ok, yes, I’ll be more careful…”  The pressure on my nape increased even more. I feel my breath shortening.   
   
“Please, Tom…!  It hurts…!”  I whimpered.  Shit, it hurts!  I’m more than a little freaked out, I’m seriously beginning to panic, it feels like he’s going to draw blood, and -fuck!- my vision is consumed by the image of James with my blood on his lips and chin, in his teeth as he snarled at me.  Fuck!  Fuck!  I screamed.

“God, no!  Don’t, please!  Please, please stop…!”  The instant I said 'stop’ he let go.  I sagged, my knees buckling, and burst into tears.

His arm cinched around my waist, holding me up as he slapped the water off.  He scooped me into his arms and carried me out of the shower, releasing an arm long enough to snag a couple of towels off the rail, tucking them around me, and carried me to my bed, sitting against the headboard with me in his lap.

I was crying hysterically, in total shock.  It had fucking hurt, although the pain had gone once he’d let go… I was crying more in reaction to the flashback of James biting me than for the pain…in fact, my pussy hurts more than my neck right now…like a ghost pain.  God.

Tom is rocking us both back and forth, trying to soothe my tears, shushing me and kissing my face and hair, telling me it’s all over now.  Reassuring me, taking care of me in the way that James never had.  I don’t know how long he held me while I cried, but I finally began to calm down, my sobs fading into the occasional hiccup.  I caught a glimpse of Tom’s face.  He looked anguished.  Fuck.

My hysteria finally quieted enough for me to tune in to what he was whispering.  "Thank god you safed out, Ellie!  Oh, Ellie…”  I realise he’s as shaken and upset as I am.  I put my hand on his cheek.

“Shh, Tom,” I murmured.  "Shh, it’s ok.  I’m ok.  Really…shh…  I’m sorry.“

His arms tightened around me and he buried his face in my wet curls.  With difficulty, I turned in his arms and wrapped my own around him, squeezing him in turn.

Eventually we both relaxed, wrung out, his hand stroking up and down my back.  He stirred.

"That….that was hard on both of us.” he gestured toward the shower.  I nodded.  
   
“Do you understand why I did that?” he probed.

I swallowed.  "Because you didn’t think I was taking you seriously…?“

Tom nodded in return.  "That’s right. You weren’t, were you?”  

I shook my head, ashamed.

He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, tracing the curve.  "You understand that I’m serious about your safety, yes?“  I nodded.

"I need to know that you won’t take foolish chances.  Will you agree to a rule about not putting yourself in jeopardy?”  I nodded once again.

“I need to hear you say it, Ellie…”

“I won’t take unnecessary risks with my safety, Tom.”  I swallowed hard.  "You’re right…  I.  I shouldn’t have let James in.  I’m sorry I worried you…“  I reached up and traced his cheek.  "I’m not used to having anybody who cares about the stupid shit I do, or what happens to me…”  I swallowed past the lump in my throat.  "Thank you,Tom.“  There was a long pause, and I heard him draw in a deep breath before exhaling slowly.

"But you have to promise me the same…”  I looked solemnly into his face.  He did not answer me.  "Look.  I know there are things that you have to do while filming…but, please?  You were so shattered when you came home last week.  It can’t be good for you.  And if you must know, I wasn’t too happy with you driving yourself home in that state.”

I watched his face anxiously.  I think he looks just the slightest bit mutinous.  I looked away.  Please don’t let me fuck this up…  

“Are we negotiating, Tom?” I looked back at him, trying to firm my voice.  "Or am I the only one who has to follow rules?  Did you mean it when you said we are in this together?“

“Of course I meant it.”  He sighed.  “If you’re going to be responsible to me, then I’ll be responsible to you."

Then he looked at me slyly, a grin lurking.  “Although, I’d like to know what penalty you think you could devise for me.”

“Oh, Tom,” I cupped his face.  "I already know you well enough that you’d be punishing yourself if you broke a promise.“  

What?  I can fight dirty if I have to…

He sobered.  "Yes, alright, Ellie.”

I nodded back.  I suspect that the two of us  are bound to have a substantial difference of opinion on what constitutes a violation of this rule, but I think that we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.

Tom lifted his hand from my breast, and spread his fingers in clear invitation to hold it. I wrapped my hand in his, and he just held it, watching our two hands entwined, running his thumb from the tip to base of my thumb, back and forth.  Finally he spoke.

“What happened, Ellie?  Why didn’t you safe out sooner, darling?”

Shame washed over me.  It felt like crushing me.  Crap.  How could I tell Tom that it had never even occurred to me that I had a safeword, that I’d completely forgotten that ‘stop’ was my safeword?  That I’d never really expected him to stop?  That it wasn’t even really him that I’d been pleading with?  That I was so fucking panicked and lost in the flashback of James biting me that Tom had ceased to exist?  Yeah, I really want to tell Tom that he’d ceased to exist for me.  NOT.

“I’m sorry, Tom.”

“Ellie, sorry isn’t…  I need to know why.” His eyebrows drew together over his nose, and his lips pressed together tightly.  Jeez.  Stern Tom.

He’s clearly not going to let it go.  And, he has a right, a need, to know, really.  But god, I don’t want to talk about this…  There’s the downside to using a safeword…He’s going to want to talk about it.  Shit.  Of course he is dammit, he’s Tom, after all.

I cleared my throat harshly.  I can’t look at him while I tell him.  I stared at my fingers twisting themselves together.

“I kinda…had a flashback.”  Fuck, why is this so hard?  “I…he bit me pretty badly once, and when you…”  His hand tightened on mine, and I glanced up at him. His face had gone very pale.  I put my hands over my face, seeing once again that frozen image of James with my blood on his face.

Tom gently pulled my hands away from my face, but he didn’t make me look at him, thank god.

“What happened, Ellie?  How badly is ‘pretty badly’? Tell me.”

“Um… He said he wanted to mark me.”  I tried to throttle down the emotion in my voice, keep it steady.  “He’d just put about a dozen strawberry marks all over me, so that’s what I thought he was talking about.”  I paused and shuddered.

“And…?”  Tom prodded.

A wave of heat washed up over me.  Why won’t the earth fucking swallow me now?  Just spit it out.  Say it!

“He…went down on me.  And when I came, he bit me…there.  He bit INTO me.  And then when you…”  I swallowed hard.  "All I could see was him with my blood smeared on his face, and…  It hurt so bad!”  Tears are pouring down my face unheeded.

Tom sat up on his knees, his brow clouded as he reached a long arm over to my bedside lamp, turning it on.  Bringing his hand back, he brushed his hand over my breast and ribs, down my belly, and gently traced my lips.  His other hand came to my sex, and he spread me wide open.  I gasped with the touch of the cool air on my inner folds.  I forced my eyes open and watched Tom’s face.  His eyebrows were pinched together, and his mouth was…grim, as he stared down at me, at my open sex.  He lifted a finger and traced over one of my inner folds, where I knew it had healed ragged and torn looking, his expression shifting to anger and…horror?  I know it’s ugly.

He lifted his eyes to mine, and all the air left my lungs.  "He did this to you?  He bit you and left these scars?“  Tom asked, his voice very calm, devoid of inflection.

I swallowed hard, and jerked my chin down in a nod, tears spilling down my cheeks.  I turned my head away.  "Please don’t, Tom…”  I don’t even really know what I’m asking him not to do.  Don’t look at me?  Don’t judge me?  Don’t be angry that I bear another man’s marks?  Don’t ask me about it?  Don’t touch me?  Don’t hurt me?  Don’t care?  God, I am so fucked up…

The next thing I know, in a flurry of limbs I am held tightly in Tom’s arms and lap.

“Never.” he breathed into my hair.  "Never, Ellie, darling girl.  I promise I will never bite you!  Never again.”

I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to have any man’s mouth near my pussy without flinching and whimpering like a fool.. Will I ever enjoy it again? I can feel the mocking breath of the man I’m meant to be done with breathing in my ear.  Will I ever be fucking free of him??

“God, Tom.  I’m so fucked up.” I whisper.

“Shhh.  Hush.  You’re not fucked up.”

He lifted me and carried me through to the kitchen, sitting me down in one of the chairs there.  He knelt in front of me, took my hands and looked up at me earnestly.

"Will you forgive me, Ellie?”

"Forgive you?  You haven’t done anything!” I’m shocked.

“Too fast, my darling.”  He kissed my knuckles.  "I went too fast, and I frightened you.  I’m sorry.

I sat back, staring at him.  Tom apologising to me.  That made me feel very…weird.  

I squirmed and laughed a little uncomfortably.  "I thought you Dom-types were never wrong?  You’re always so confident.”

He shrugged.  "Confident when I’m right, confident when I’m wrong, that doesn’t make me some kind of infallible.  And it certainly doesn’t mean I can’t aplolgise for my mistakes.”

I cringed.  My voice came out in a whisper.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“No!  No, darling!  This is not your fault, any of it!  I just let my …  Ellie, I want you so badly, in every way.”  He picked up my hand and pressed it to his chest, over his heart.  I could feel it under my palm, banging away at a great rate.  I shivered a little and I could feel my skin pebble up in goose pimples.   
   
“Stay there.”

Tom stood and swiftly left the room, returning just as quickly with his shirt and underpants.  He knelt once more and pulled his shirt around me, sliding my arms into the sleeves.  I looked down at myself.  His shirt wouldn’t button around me at all, by a centimeter or two over my belly, and by several centimeters over my breasts, the shoulders were too wide, and the sleeves miles too long.  But it was comforting nevertheless.  He caressed me where the shirt gaped between my breasts, before looking up.  "So beautiful…“  

He stood and put his boxer briefs on, pulling a chair around to face mine.  He sat in it, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, hands rubbing the tops of my thighs where they rested between his legs, caging me in.  I shivered again, in a good way this time.  This sense he gives me of surrounding me and protecting me is so… I feel small and vulnerable, but so sheltered.  

"Darling, this is why you need a real safeword.  He hurt you, and I can see he frightened you badly. You should have been able to tell him.  You should have been able to stop him…” he paused, “And you should have used your safeword sooner when I frightened you.  You don’t ever have to be frightened of me, or frightened of using your safeword with me.  I will always stop, and I will never be angry at you for using it.”  His hand came up and cupped my cheek.  "I am so…honored that you trust me this much. I’m very sorry I pushed you too soon”

“But, Tom!  You didn’t do anything wrong!  I did!  Or James did.  I just…forgot, that’s all.”

He paused a moment.  "But you see, darling Ellie, that’s not all.  Just as you need to be able to trust me enough to use your safeword, I need to be able to trust that you will use it.  I need you to never forget.“  His thumb caressed tenderly across my cheekbone.

My eyes filled again.  "I didn’t think of that.” I choked out.  "…I’m sorry.“

Tom pulled me into his lap once again and hugged me tight.  "Me, too.  We’ll work this out, Ellie.  Together.  Alright?”

I nodded into his neck.  "Together.“ I whispered.  "Thank you…”  I sat back, and he smoothed a hand over my curls, pushing them back from my face.

 


	16. Chapter 16

“Ellie, you told me a couple of weeks ago that you’d made out your limits list?”  He held me on his lap, my head tucked under his chin.  I nodded.

“Good girl.  Go get it.” he commanded.

Good girl?  Huh.  That might take a bit of getting used to.  I’m not ten years old, after all.  I’m clearly going to be spending some time thinking about how I feel about that…still, it’s better than ‘slut’. 

I’m coming to realise that this whole limits thing, the whole relationship really, is going to be an evolving process.  The list is only a starting point.

I slid off his lap.  We’re really going to do this…  I wrapped my arms around myself, tugging his shirt a little closer, feeling chilled, as I went to get the paper from my office.  

I’d printed out a downloadable version I’d found online.  It was easier for me to have a hard copy and a pencil in my hands to fill it out.  I work with pencils and paper, just having them in my hands had made me less anxious about the whole thing.  I laughed at myself.  I’d even used my coloured drawing pencils and colour-coded the thing!  That won’t be embarrassing to hand over to Tom at all!  Shit.  Somehow I’d never really envisioned myself actually giving it to anyone…

I cast a quick look over my shoulder at Tom as I left the kitchen.  HE doesn’t seem to be too embarrassed.  I went and scrabbled through the papers on my desk, finding it fairly quickly, and scanned it, wondering if I should change anything before giving it to him.  I have a feeling that anything I’d marked as a soft limit might be a bit like waving a flag at Tom, so I’d better be certain I’m willing to try it with him before I let him see it.  Really, the soft limits, for me, mean that I might be interested in trying, but only with someone I know really really well.  I mean, it might be all naughty and fun to have surreptitious sex in an elevator, but not with someone I didn’t know very well.  There’s trust, and then there’s trust, right?

I scribbled a quick note to that effect on the back of the paper, along with the other random notes and comments I’d written there.  I checked my hard limits.

I’d marked off stuff that I wanted nothing to do with in red pencil on the front, but I’d also written my hard limits in red on the back, for emphasis.  The ones that I had personal experience of and wanted nothing more to do with.  Biting.  Anal.  Degradation.  Name calling.  Dishonesty.  I expect I’ll be adding more to that list as I go along. I sigh, taking a last look.  It looks like a primary kid’s homework paper, all wrinkled and scribbled over.

I turned back toward the kitchen.  I can do this.  A little embarrassment has never killed me yet.  I took a deep breath and stood straight, nerving myself for what comes next. Why does this feel so much harder, make me feel more naked than naked?

I fetched the paper back to Tom and handed it to him without comment.  Tom looked down at my list, but quickly back up at me when I started to sit while he read.

“Stay there please, Ellie.” And he went back to the paper.

Really?  Shit.  I feel like I’m in the Headmasters office, dammit!  Standing here and watching Tom read.  It’s a dead cert that the Head isn’t going to be letting me off by writing lines.  I’m actually beginning to fidget a bit with nerves, as if I HAD to been called onto the carpet for some misdeed.

He read through my list -twice!- and set the paper down on the table before looking up at me anxiously twisting my fingers together.  He held a hand out to me.  It took me a moment to focus, but I put my hand in his.  He drew me to him and pulled me into his lap.

“I see biting is on your list of hard limits,” he said quietly.  "I’m sorry, Ellie…  I know it’s a bit late, but I want to be sure you know that I’d never have bitten you hard enough to break your skin.  That’s  one of my hard limits, too.  Darling, I never want to frighten you that way again.  Nervous can be fun,“ he flashed a quick grin at me, then sobered, "but there's nothing sexy about outright fear.  I want you to know that there was nothing about your reaction, your terror or your tears, that I enjoyed.  I never want to make you feel that again!  Tell me, promise me, you’ll safe out if I frighten you?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to make a smart comment, to try to laugh it off, because I was still rather embarrassed at myself for my reaction.  But Tom looked, I don’t know, a little lost?  Sad?  Well, in need of some kind of comforting, anyway.  So I hugged him.

“I promise, Tom.”

He hugged me back and kissed my temple.  "Here.  My list.“  He handed me a folded piece of paper.

I scanned through it.  It actually wasn’t too far off from mine, not into blood play or medical instruments, that kind of thing.  I was relieved that he wasn’t into the more extreme bits, but not really surprised.  There were a few obvious differences in our lists.  He definitely has more experience with a wider variety than I, and he’d marked a few things 'enjoy’ that I didn’t want anything to do with, like anal, and exhibitionism.  But I could see there were several things that we matched well on.  And, oh yay!  He likes to tie women up!  I think I just won all the things!

I hand him his list back, and when he sets it on the table, I wrap my arms around his neck and batt my eyelashes at him.

"So, Headmaster, did I pass the class?”  I dimpled at him.

Tom choked and laughed.  "Headmaster, eh?  Hmmm.  Maybe later, Miss Mackenzie…“

Oh, damn.  Did he just say that?  Maybe the 'Professor’ isn’t off limits after all…yum!

He helped me off his lap, and stood very close, towering over me, looking intently down at my upturned face.  He’s fucking mesmerizing.

"I think I’ll start, Ellie girl, by tying you down and making you come.”  Well.  That was…remarkably specific.  I believe him.

“Wait for me on your bed, please, darling”

I blew out a slow breath.  Even his Dom is polite!  I turned and started to take a step toward my bedroom.  He caught my hand and held a finger up to capture my attention.

“But first, I’ll be having this back…” he said, sliding that pointing finger slowly up my chest from the gap in his shirt over the centre of my body, that single finger sliding over my collarbone, and under the shoulder of the shirt, as he watched the motion of his finger intently.  Holy hell.  
   
He slid the shirt off my shoulder, and it fell open on that side, revealing me, the sleeve catching at my elbow.  He exhaled just barely loud enough for me to hear him, his breath ghosting warmly over my chest.

Tom trailed his finger over my shoulder and down the inside of my arm to the sleeve at my elbow, raising gooseflesh behind it.  Then that finger drifted over to my naked breast as I watched, nearly ready to pass out for lack of oxygen at how incredibly sensual this was.  Breathe, I need to breathe…

That forefinger lightly circled my nipple several times, as it crinkled and tightened into a hard aching knot.  Then he moved on across my chest, on up to my other collarbone, repeating that slow slide of his shirt off my other shoulder, and catching it as it fell from my body.  Christ, I have never felt so…nude.

He looked into my face, his eyes hooded.  He jerked his chin toward the doorway.  "Go.“ he said in that damned fuck-me-now voice.

Go?  Now??  Dammit!  But when both eyebrows went up, I huffed silently and turned to go.

SWAT!  Holy fuck!!

I yelped and leapt forward, clutching my stinging arse, and whirled around.

"What was that for??” I yelled in outrage.

All those damned white teeth were suddenly on display.  "Because I wanted to.“  He lifted an eyebrow, challenging me.

Well, fuck me.  I stared at him.  What’s more melted than a puddle?  Whatever it is, that’s what I am.  A damn thrill zipped right up my spine.

"Well.  Alright, then!” I managed a saucy grin, wriggled my arse at him, and took off at a fast clip for my room.  In the absence of any other instructions, I climbed up and sat on the edge of my bed, my feet dangling over the floor.  Really, why had I bought such a ridiculously high bed?  I kicked my feet.  Oh, right.  Because the height and size of the thing made me feel small.  And protected somehow, the tall carved posts on each corner standing sentinel over me.

I heard a small noise and looked up to see Tom leaning on the door jamb, arms folded, watching me.  He fucking looks hungry.  Damn.

“Now, then,” he said as he straightened, “let’s just see what we have here that will be useful, shall we?”  He moved over to my dresser and opened my top drawer, humming a bit to himself.  Fuck!  My knickers and bras!  Not all of them fit for view!  Shit.  I must have made some small noise of horror because Tom’s head turned as he lifted a pair of green lace knickers on a long finger.  Damn, the look on his face…

Tom glances pointedly at me, naked on my bed, glances at the doorway and around my room, down into my lingerie drawer, and at the green knickers in his hand.

“Did you have something to say Ellie?”

Yeah, that didn’t sound dangerous at all.  Crap.  I pretty much invited him to do anything he damn well liked in here, and if he wants to look at my knickers, well ok then.  Suck it up, girl.

“Why no, Tom,” I say as sweetly as possible, “I have nothing at all to say.  For the moment.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he went back to pawing through my knickers and accessories.  What the hell is he doing?

“Ah.  Here we go.  Yes, this will do nicely.”  He pushes the drawer shut and turns with various things in his hands.

I raise my eyebrow warily as he approaches and sets the things on the bed next to me.

“Lie back in the centre of the bed, darling.”

I scoot up and lay back, curious about what deviltry he is planning.  Judging from the look on his face, he’s got some kind of mischief in mind.  I want to cheer…this morning has been entirely too fucking fraught.  It’s about damn time someone had some fun around here!

First he picked up a leather belt, and lifted me, passing it around my waist and doing up the buckle.  Then he wrapped a scarf around my ankle tying off a loop that would neither tighten nor slip.  He did the same with the other ankle.  

I’m watching what he’s doing, but I’m also watching his face, his concentration as he checks and double checks that the bindings around my ankles aren’t too tight.  He’s biting on his lower lip in concentration, and damn, I want to be biting it instead.

Tom reaches for a white cotton bra, and worked one end of the chest band through the binding at one ankle.  Then ran the other end through the belt at my waist.  He drew my ankle up to my bottom, and fastened the bra clasp together, tethering my ankle there.  I couldn’t straighten my leg.  Very clever.  He repeats the process with my other ankle, and there I am, trussed up like a damn turkey.

I try to suppress a snort at the thought, but Tom’s eyes snap up to my face, taking in my expression.  He stands and leans against the bed post, crossing his arms, his eyebrow at a dangerous tilt, for all his casual pose.

“Something amusing you, darling?”  Oh god, does he think I’m laughing at him??  Shit.

“N-no…”

He reaches over and takes my chin in his hand, turning my face to his.

“Spill.”

I know I blushed bright red, I could feel the heat scalding my chest and face.  Brazen it out.

“Just…I look like a trussed turkey, and well..” I trailed off.

“And-?”  Tom prompted with a grin beginning to bloom.

“You look hungry…?”  I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, and failing miserably, I’m sure.

And suddenly the smile is gone, and the Dom is back.  The Dom who has just tied me up, and whom I have just been foolish enough to twit.  Oh, lord.  The spit dries in my mouth.

He tapped his finger on his lip meditatively.  "Yes darling, I do believe I am hungry,“ he purred,  "Very hungry.  I’m just deciding if I want a breast or a thigh first…”  
He crawls onto the bed over me and looks down at my tied body.

“Delicious.”  And he leans down to drag his tongue over my breast.  I squirm from the wet and warm sensation, wanting more.  How in hell did he find my 'instant on’ button so fast?  I think I might have whimpered.

Every damn little hair on my body stands on end when his hand drops onto my knee and begins to push it toward the bed, parting my legs.  His hand slides from my knee, feathering over the skin on the inside of my thigh, and a fingertip traces up, up from my thigh, over my labia and into the crease between thigh and mound.

God, it feels so…  I’m ready to come right out of my skin, little sparkles are beginning to go off in my vision.

Tom takes his mouth off my breast and leans up to my ear, murmuring “Breathe, Ellie,” very gently.

I gasped.  Damn.  I was holding my breath and this close to passing out.  Dear god, I never realised how similar the sensation of being on the edge of coming is to the sensation of the edge of fainting…

Tom sat back on his heels, watching my body, his eyes tracing over my bindings, his eyes heating.  His hand never ceased moving over my hips and belly, mound and thighs, his strokes becoming firmer, morphing into gripping me, and back to caressing.  And all while staring at me intently, drinking in my every move, every twitch, every stuttered breath.  My god, I could come from the heat of his eyes alone.

“Tom…”

“Hush.”

I bite my lip.  Jeezus.  This is…torment.  I find his gaze, pleading with my eyes.  More…  Touch me…

“Gorgeous girl…” Tom whispers the endearment, and leans in to kiss my mouth.  Not a lovely, sweet kiss, but an invading, ravaging kiss, as he crawls over my body, insinuating his knees between my own.

I can hear myself beginning to pant.  That and the pounding of my heart are the only things I can hear.  Tom puts his enormous hands on either side of my head, just -fuck!- in my peripheral vision.  I swallow hard.  He drags his cock up my thigh, slowly pushing up through my folds, onto my belly, and back again, trailing moisture, mine and his.  
I writhe as much as I can.  God, I’m getting so close…

 

“Tom…!”

“Hush,” Tom repeats.

When did he put a condom on?  He drags himself back over me once again, but this time, at last, at last, he sinks into me.

Oh god, I have to move. I can’t straighten my legs, or wrap them around him to pull him closer.  But Tom has neglected to tie my hands.  I run them up his hard chest, up either side of his neck, and down onto the tops of his shoulders, hanging on for dear life.  I feel that if I don’t ground myself, hold onto him, I’m going to fall off the world.

Tom strokes slowly in and out of me, over and over.  I’m getting desperate.  It feels like I’ve been this close for hours. I can’t move, I can’t stretch, and all that tension is sinking into the coil in my belly, ratcheting it tighter and tighter, oh god, I have to release some of this tension, this energy before it consumes me.

“Tom…” I whine.  I barely realise I spoke out loud, when Tom pulls out and deftly rolls me over.  Tied as I am, that leaves me with the side of my face on the bed, and my arse high in the air.

A large hand comes down stinging on my arse, startling a scream out of me.

“Hush.”

And he drives into me from behind.  If I hadn’t been tied into position, I swear he’d have knocked me flat.  
   
My god.  A delicious pain blooms deep inside.  He’s so deep he battered my cervix, setting off a tiny cramp low in my belly, that quickly morphs into a desperate need for him to do it again.

One of Tom’s hands leaves its grip on my hip, and reaches around to circle my clit.  Fuck!

“Come on, gorgeous girl.  Come for me.  Give in, Ellie.  Give it to me…”

Each of the four fingertips on that hand drags against my clit, one at a time, in slow succession. Over and over, as Tom continues to drive slowly into me.  And still I can’t move.  There’s only one place for all this incredible tension to release, and it’s going, going…!

My body seizes, straining, arching into him as much as my limited movement allows.  I cry out, dimly hearing Tom’s voice crooning at me.

“Oh yes, that’s it darling girl…oh, good girl…yes, more…”

He keeps moving in me as I spasm around him.  As the last flutters fade away, Tom picks up his pace, changing his angle, his hand coming back to grip my hip again, pulling me back helplessly onto him, impaling me with every stroke.  Now he’s rocking into me in short sharp strokes, fast and hard, a sexy little grunt falling from him every other stroke.  Oh my god, he’s pulling me back up with him…

My own voice is joining his, our chorus crescendoing in a mutual shout as we both release together.  Collapse together.  Breathe together.

Tom nuzzles my hair.  "Alright, love?“

"Very alright.  Jeezus, Tom, what did you do to me?”

He kissed the end of my nose as he began to untie me.  "Just exactly what I said I’d do; tie you up and make you come.“  

If he looks a little smug, I’m completely ok with that.

Tom carefully rubbed my ankles and gently straightened my legs, letting me stretch at last.  Oh, wonderful…

"You know,” I grinned, “I always thought that the phrase 'the earth moved’ was hyperbole.  You have a damn good lever!”

Tom snickered.  "I think you’re mixing your metaphors, darling.“

"Your fault.  You scrambled my brain.”  I muttered into his chest as he settles next to me and pulls me close, stroking my hair.

 


	17. Chapter 17

No…no, please, no…!  I pushed away as hard as I could from the heavy weight on my back.

“Fight me, little boy…”  Growled low and menacing.

“Noooo!!” I cried, and whimpered, dreading the coming pain, knowing it was useless.

“Shhh, love.  It’s alright, shhh.  It’s just a dream…”

Soothing voice, quiet in my ear, tender hand stroking my hair, familiar scent in my nose…safety…burrowing down and drifting off, rocked in a sea of care…

***  
I woke slowly to the hazy realization that it was morning.  Mmm, so warm.  My arm and leg are draped over Tom, the side of my face nestled into the hollow of his shoulder.  I listened drowsily to his sleeping breath moving quietly, slightly lifting and lowering my pillowed head.  I sighed in contentment around the object in my mouth.  
What?  Shit.  I’m sucking on my damn thumb!

I slipped my thumb out of my mouth, and glanced up at his face, lifting my head the slightest bit.  Thank god, he’s still sleeping.

What the hell?  I haven’t sucked my thumb since after Dad left us.  I’d regressed a bit for time after he left, but eventually I stopped waking up with a soggy thumb.  Until this morning.  What’s up with that??

There was something hard poking the back of my knee.  What?  Oh.  I snorted very quietly, I’d heard of this morning wood thing, but had never experienced it, as James never spent the night with me. I never knew if it was a myth or not. I had this insane urge to carol  'It’s true, it’s truuuue!’ a la ‘Young Frankenstein’.  I tried to suppress my giggles. 

Seriously, I have Tom Hiddleston in my bed, why am I thinking about Gene Wilder and Madeline Kahn??  
   
I realise that Tom’s hips are thrusting a bit against my knee.  Glancing at his face, I watch him slowly come awake, the sweet innocence on his face dissolving into… Awareness?  Need?  He makes a small grunt in his throat, lifting his hips, and opens his eyes, looking directly into mine, a small smile curving his lips.

“Good morning.”  He brushes a kiss on my forehead and his arms come up around me in a hug.  

"Mmmmm, what a lovely way to wake up.“ His voice is morning soft, deeper than usual.  He reaches over me to the bedside table and picks up the bottle of water there, taking a sip and swishing it around a bit to moisten his mouth.  He tips the bottle to my mouth for the same, and sets it back down.

"That’s better.  Now, where were we?” He smiles down at me.  His hand moves over and a fingertip tickles my nipple.  "I think I’m going to give you a little demonstration of my appreciation for waking up next to you…“ he said softly in my ear as his finger continues to play with my nipple, tucking his chin back to watch my face.

"Mmm, I’ve never done that before.  That might be fun.”   
   
He gently rolls us to our sides, my back against his front, tugging me slightly upward, and pushing his knee up against my thigh, nudging my thigh forward, making room for him to slide his cock between my thighs.  His arms slid around me, one hand palming my breast, the other holding my opposite shoulder, enveloping me, he thrust his hips lightly against my backside, pushing his cock up through my folds, his cockhead lightly prodding against my clit, drawing a hiss from me.

He nuzzles his face into my neck, his morning scruff scratching at the sensitive skin there, in a sensuous contrast with the softness of his lips.  He sucked lightly, pulling a bit of skin into his mouth, over and over, nibbling and licking the same spot.  It began to drive me, to wake up all my skin.

Tom’s fingers began to pluck at my nipples, pulling and occasionally twisting just a bit, sending little shocks down my body.  My upper arms are pinned to my body, but I bring my hands up to clutch at his forearm, not trying to stop him, just holding on.  How can he simultaneously push me high into the air, and still be the anchor that keeps me tethered to the earth, sheltered and safe?

He enters me, pushing slowly into me, his soft groan in my ear, as I surround him, and, oh, he surrounds me.  He whispers a low narrative of what he feels as he does, describing my warmth, softness, wetness, over and around his prick, the drag and pull lighting up his nerves, pulling his balls tight against his body and urging him to take more, harder, faster.  

His stroke remains languorous as he tells me this, a torturous slow rocking into my body, even as my pussy heats with need of him, wanting to give him that more, harder, faster…  But he is in control, as he always is.

Tom pulls one of my hands from it’s forgotten grip on his forearm, holding my hand and trailing my fingers down my ribs, over my belly, briefly circling my navel before sliding between my lips, and down to the place where we are joined.

“Feel me, Ellie, feel us…”  He guides my fingers to press lightly at the underside of his cock as it slides in and out of me, my juices lubricating our touch.  The feeling of his hard length gliding against my fingertips, silken and wet, is so hot, and so tender.  I curl my fingers slightly, very lightly grazing him with my short nails as he moves.  He groans at the feel, and pushes in with a firmer stroke.

“Gods, Ellie.”  I just moaned in response.  

Tom let go my hand and trailed his down the outside of my thigh, wrapping around and lifting my knee, bringing it up and back, setting my top leg over his, opening me wider.  I began to tap my fingers against the rhythmically reappearing underside of his prick, his speed picking up, finally giving in a little to the urgency both of us are fighting.

Tom’s hand moves north and begins to circle my clit, dipping down to pick up my juices, and swirling the moisture back through my folds to my clit.  My hips move, thrusting against his fingers, pushing down against his cock, grinding his cockhead against my cervix.

“Fuck, Tom…please…” I whine.

“More?” he asks in a husky voice.

“God, yes… Please!”

He pushes me over onto my belly, his arms still under me, one hand moving up to circle my throat, not squeezing, his warm hand just there, holding me captive, his other hand still working against my clit, his weight on me as he shoves hard into my pussy.  The weight of his body is grinding me into the mattress, his hand caught between.  I’m helplessly humping his hand.

“Are you going to come for me, Ellie?  Can you feel it building?  Come for me girl…squeeze me, come around my cock…” he growled in my ear.  I have no breath to answer him, other than a high pitched whine.

Suddenly he sits up, hauling my hips with him, slipping one strong, corded arm over my belly, his fingers pinching at my clit, driving his hips forward.  The angle of his stroke changes, shortening and speeding, thrusting against my spot, making me keen, all my nerve endings on fire.  I wail as I come, feeling warm liquid gush over my thighs, my head in the stars, clamping down over his length for a long moment, feeling every inch of him inside.

“Fuck!” he grunted, as my pussy clenched rhythmically, coming all the way up to his knees and fucking himself into me, his hands moving to my hips, pulling me down hard against him, his rhythm stuttering as I feel him swell and pulse inside me.  His hands are clutching my hips, grinding me down onto him as he releases the last of his climax.

As I recover my breath I become aware that my knees are wet.  We’re kneeling in a circle of wet sheets.  I’m confused.  Where did that come from?  Then I remember the gush of warm fluid as I came.  Fuck!  Did I pee myself??

“Oh, my god, you fucking gorgeous, incredible girl.  That was so, so beautiful…” Tom murmures into my neck, breathing heavily, his heart pounding against my back.

I shiver, the wet on my legs beginning to cool, desperately wondering how to tell him I’ve pee’d all over the bed.  "I’m sorry, Tom, I don’t know what… I’m all wet…oh shit.“  I want to bury myself in embarrassment.

Tom pulls from me, and turns me, his eyes searching mine, then kissing me so sweetly. 

"Oh, darling girl, don’t you know?  You’ve never done that?  Christ, that was the most incredible…thank you, baby.  So wonderful…my god, when you came into my hand, filled my palm, I nearly…”  He lifts his wet hand and licks me off his fingers.  

"So sweet.“  The expression in his eyes somewhere between lust and bliss, his eyes half closed.  So, it’s ok?  Me soaking us both crotch to knees?  Huh.  It was a really, really good orgasm…

Tom’s grin quirks.  "Come here, darling.”  He opens his arm, pulling himself to sit against the pillows on the headboard, inviting me to curl into him.  I snuggle up to him, my head in the hollow of his shoulder, and sigh, rubbing my cheek against him.  He tucks a curl behind my ear, tracing the curve, as he likes to do.  

He crooks a finger under my chin and looks down into my face, smiles and kisses my nose.  Reaching over to the bedside table, he picks up his phone, swiping through screens, then handing me the phone.  "Always start with Wikipedia,“ he grins.

Tom had brought up information on female ejaculation, and there it is.  I had no idea.  It’s freaking strange to find that my body can do this thing that I had no idea was even possible. Once again; huh.  As Sharon would say, ‘learn somethin’ new every damn day!’  

Plus, well… Tom seems awfully pleased.  With me, or himself, I have no idea.  I cast a quick glance up at his face.  He looks like he’s going to break into fucking song any minute now.  Ok then.

I hand his mobile back to him.  "Huh.”  I glance around at the enormous wet spot.  "So, there’s just one problem…“

Tom smiles down at me.  Yeah, that’s a smug look.  "And what’s that, darling?”

“You ejaculate and it’s generally contained.  Me?”  I gesture at the wet spot.  "…Not so much.“

Tom bounces up, off the bed, scooping me up into his arms with a laugh.  "Not to worry, love!  You cook, I clean!”  He sat me down in my reading chair, pulls the duvet off the bottom of the bed and tucks it around me, dropping a kiss on my curls, then moving to strip the sheets.  He stood regarding the bed a moment, the sheets held in his hand, darting a look at me over his shoulder.  

"Damn, Ellie, I’m impressed.“  Seriously?  I crane my head up and look.  Shit!  The mattress pad is soaked as well.  Fortunately it’s waterproof.  Or liquid-proof, anyway.  Jeez.

Tom is stripping my sheets, and finding clean ones, remaking the bed.  It’s such an unexpectedly intimate thing to have him in my place, doing something that would normally be my responsibility.  I can’t say I’ve ever had anyone change my sheets for me, not since I was old enough to do it myself.  Tom lays my blanket over the fresh sheets, turns down my side, and turns to me, sweeping a comical hand at the bed with a bow.

"Your chariot awaits, madam.”  He intones solemnly, then breaks into his silly grin.

“Oh, yeah?  So, am I the rider?  Or the horse?” I snicker at him.

Tom’s eyes darkened.  "Maybe both, if you’re lucky, little girl.“ he growls menacingly.  I shiver.  Note to self: quit challenging Tom’s…ingenuity.  These lightning mood changes of his, playful to sweet to lustful…I’m always one step behind.  

I’m pretty sure he likes it that way.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Tom is in my kitchen, returning some calls, checking his email and apparently making tea, judging by the kettles’ whistle going off.

He’ll be off home in a bit, but I’m kinda enjoying having him puttering around in my kitchen.  I think I ought to feel anxious about having him make tea, like I ought to be doing it.  But I don’t.  I certainly never would have allowed James to do anything in my kitchen.  Not that he’d have offered.   
   
What’s weird is that it doesn’t feel weird to let Tom fend for himself.  It feels…comfortable?

I set my phone in the dock in my office, cuing up some music to work by.  I do have to be careful to match the music up with whatever mood I’m trying to establish in the kitchen design I’m working on.  The Nouveau French Provincial kitchen I did last year did NOT benefit from my listening to Nine Inch Nails while drawing!  I’d had to start the drawings over, and the kitchen had turned out beautifully, but I’d kept the discarded drawings because they’d turned out so unintentionally hilarious.  If I ever do a book… Or a dungeon.

Today I’m listening to George Winston as I set up my table and pencils, getting ready to start on a new client.  I rough in the current kitchen from the photos I took when I visited her home.  I’ll superimpose my changes over top for a rough draft and go from there.  My mind wanders as I draw.  It’s a good time to think things through, and I have a lot to think about right now.

I’m fucking fed to the teeth with James being in my damn head so much.  What the hell is up with that?  I managed to kick him out of my life, pretty decisively, too!  Now how the hell do I get the fucker out of my head??

I’m sure Tom wouldn’t be any too chuffed to know that I keep thinking of James while he’s with me.  Some tiny part of me keeps flinching in expectation that Tom will behave the way James did, react to me the way James would have.  Which I know is ridiculous.  The two are not similar in any way.  Tom is gentle and caring, and so focused on me, where James was…not. In an odd way, Tom's focus is more intimidating, somehow.

Getting some time and distance from James has certainly made me better aware of his flaws. Well, if I were honest I’d have to admit that I actually tried pretty hard not to notice his flaws at the time.  I suppose the bigger question is not why he treated me that way, but why I let him.  I still don’t know if it was my submissive nature, or if I’m just…  I deserved better, I know I did.  Why didn’t I let myself believe that at the time?

It’s still a bit of a shock to go from a man who wanted to control me simply because he got off on it, to one who wants to help me be comfortable myself for my own betterment.  Tom held me when I fell down, taking me in and caring tenderly for me when I was so devastated.  I’ve never had that before.  Not even when Mum died.  Then Tom helped me back to my feet, holding me just enough to steady me while I found my footing again. He’s been wonderful in every way.

But there’s a small vicious voice inside, reminding me that I was stupid enough to believe that  James was wonderful too.  I have good and recent reason to be wary of my ability to judge a man’s character.  My heart contracted.  I think it would just about kill me to find I’m wrong about Tom…

Tom wandered into my office, carrying two cups of tea, his steps soft on bare feet.  He set a cup for me on the flat section next to my tilted drawing surface, brushing a soft kiss on my temple, but not interrupting me.

I cast a quick glance at him, standing there in his trousers and unbuttoned shirt, his hair every which way.  If only gorgeous were a guarantee of good intentions, I’d never have to question his motives.  But James… Fuck!  Get out of my head!  Focus on the job, girl.

This design is challenging, husband and wife having seemingly diametrically opposed tastes.  I’m actually really enjoying figuring out how to harmonize their tastes into a space that is comfortable, lovely, and useful for both of them.

Tom stood over my shoulder watching the drawing take shape under my pencil, as he blew on his hot tea   I was still in the design phase, not the drafting, so the drawing was easily comprehensible to a non-architect or draftsman.

“These are quite good…interesting blend of styles.”  He took another sip of tea.  I smiled at him over my shoulder, and gestured with my chin.  "There are a few other design sets over there on the other table.  You’re welcome to look if you like.“  

I turned back to my current work, sketching in details for cupboard faces, tiles, and the like.  I don’t do just design.  My business does all the usual things; cabinets and appliances and countertops of course, hopefully arranged pleasingly, but I also do fine hand work finish.  Hand painted tiles, hand carved accents, mosaics, lighting.  Shit, I love this stuff!  I can’t believe I get paid to do something I find so fun.  I’m starting to get some fairly big, well-known clients.  Not Royalty by any means, mind you…not yet anyway.  
Over my shoulder, I hear Tom draw in a sharp breath.

"Oh, Ellie!  This…this is wonderful.”  I set down my pencil and crossed the room to him as he stares down at one of the design sets.  It’s the design I did for his morgue.  His long finger traced over the Arts and Crafts style cupboards, the Frank Lloyd Wright stained glass lamps over the oak farm table.

I think it looks warm and inviting.  Homey.  Masculine.  A bit eclectic.  At least it doesn’t make me think that opening a cupboard might reveal a fresh corpse!

His intent regard focused on the design I’d made to turn his morgue into an actual kitchen, illustrating what I’d detailed verbally for him the time he’d asked me what I’d change.  I watched his face as his eyes ran over the design, stopping and carefully examining details, tilting the paper into the light.  
   
Another glance up at me, and he flipped to the architectural drawing, showing where load bearing walls were, with electric, plumbing and gas, incorporating the large country kitchen fireplace set in a brick wall, and the vastly enlarged window over the sink.  

I’d added several high arched windows near the ceiling to bring light in, even when the curtain is drawn over the sink for privacy.  I hoped it would feel light and airy to him, expansive at the top.  I’d not only wanted to accommodate his height, I’d wanted to let him feel that he never needed to stoop, or minimize his height for fear of banging his head about.  I’d tried to make his kitchen comfortable specifically for him.  I wonder when he’ll notice the one countertop I’ve sized to his height, for a different kind of cooking entirely...

I’d also added a built in glass fronted curio cabinet and drawn all his little award statuettes in it, after looking them all up on the internet. I don’t know where he keeps them currently, but I suspect they’re stashed in the back of a closet somewhere. I snuck an Oscar in the curio, too.  I hope he’ll see the humor in it, and the honest expectation that he’ll be recognized for his brilliant ability and all his hard work.

Tom set the plans down on the tabletop, and contemplated them a moment, rubbing a knuckle in the reddish scruff on his chin.  His hand came down and rapped that knuckle on the papers in decision.

“These are brilliant, and no shit, darling!  They’re just exactly…  May I hire you for a job of work, Ellie?“  He watched me closely as I rocked back in surprise.

"Um, Tom, I didn’t…  I really don’t…You know I’m not angling for a job, right?  I just, I wanted to give you something in, in gratitude for all your care…” I trailed off helplessly, gesturing vaguely with my hands, warding him off from thinking that I needed the work. I’m pretty booked up, actually.   
   
He smiled at me.  "You genuinely don’t know, do you?“ he asked softly.  I just looked back at him, confused.  He slipped an arm around my waist and drew me close.

"Darling Ellie, I have never been so…touched.”  He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before blowing it out.  “This gift…you didn’t just throw random elements together and fit them into the space…you paid such close attention to me that you were able to create a space designed to… relax me when I don’t even know I’m tense.  This is an intensely personal gift you’ve given me, and I am not fool enough to turn it away.  But I simply cannot imagine someone other than you bringing it to fruition.  Can you?”  
He looked me straight in my eyes, capturing me, expecting an answer.

“Well, no…,“ I choked, "I, um…”   
   
“So, will you?  Will you build my beautiful kitchen?  When can you start?”

Well.  I hadn’t expected to pick up a job. How do I tell him that I’m so busy I have to check my schedule to see when I can fit him in, without sounding like… Aw, hell. I can’t, so I might as well go for it.  I stuck my nose in the air and drawled.

“I’ll have to check that I can fit Sir into my busy schedule.”  Dropping the act, I asked him, “I’ll get Sharon to cost it out for you.  When are you next due to be away?”   
   
He blinked.  "Away?”

“You said you hadn’t done the morgue over because you didn’t want all the fuss and bother of renovation when you’re home.  I assumed…”

“Oh, no darling!  If you’re doing the work, I want to watch!”   
   
Oh, here we go.  Damn.  Do I want Tom looking over my shoulder for weeks on end?  It’s not a tidy business, it’s messy and loud, and I’m not what you’d call demure on the job site.  I always try to be patient and accommodating with clients, but I rarely have them hanging about.  Usually they’re glad to be away from the chaos.  I think Tom’s likely to be one of those rare idiots who wants to swing a hammer with the boys… I don’t often run into clients who want to be involved in the actual work, but they are invariably a pain in the arse to work for. With.

“Tom… ”  how do I tell him, warn him really, that I’m a completely different person when I’m working?

I sighed.  ”Alright.  On one condition.  No, two conditions.“ I stared at him challengingly.  I’d better set ground rules for this at the beginning, or there will be trouble.  And it will be my arse in the sling!

“Oh dear, I have a feeling that I’m going to regret asking…what’s that, darling?”  He looked at me with a quizzical smile.

“Um, you’ll have to let me be in charge while I’m working… ”  I watched him anxiously.  But really, I can’t have him messing with my work, can I?

"Of course I’d never interfere with your work, Ellie!  What’s the other condition?”

“You have to shave.”  I glowered at him.  I have to reinforce that I set the rules when I’m working.

His eyebrows shot up, and he rubbed his chin, the sound of the stubble rasping on his hand loud.  "You don’t like beards?“

"I like beards just fine…but you can’t expect me to get any work done with King Henry swanning  about the place!”

He laughed and hugged me.  "Got a little thing for royalty, have you?“  He smirked down at me, and I felt heat scald my face.

"Nope. Not me. No way.”  I shook my head wildly in denial.

“Hmm.”  Tom grasped my chin and tilted it up.  "I think my pretty little sub just lied to me.  Whatever shall I do about that?“  His other hand slid down my back and slapped my arse, sending me hard against him with a yelp.

Holy hell.

***  
Oh god, I hate days like this.  Days when I want to cry, and I don’t know why.  Days when I can’t cry, and I don’t know why.  I glance at my kitchen calendar.  Nope. Not premenstrual.  What the fuck is wrong with me?  I shiver again as I pull on my warmest jumper.

I’ve been restless and anxious all afternoon.  Well, not all afternoon, just since Tom had left to attend some meeting or other.  He’d left me with a kiss and a promise to pick up dinner for us.  Shortly after he’d gone, I’d started to feel restless and weepy.  I’d gone into a frenzy of cleaning, making the bed, doing laundry, cleaning the bath, hoovering.  All the stuff that I normally do piecemeal during the week, done all at once.

What the fuck is wrong with me?!  There it is in a nutshell, actually.  This overwhelming feeling that something is wrong with me.  Wrong.  With.  Me.  I’ve no clue what it is.  I don’t feel this way usually.  Just, for no particular reason, the world seems to have lost all colour and turned grey.  Shouldn’t I be happy?

I tried to settle back to the work on my drafting table, but I’m too antsy.  I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin, just fucking fly apart, and dammit, I don’t know why!  

I need…I need a small space, I need to feel enclosed.  I hurry into my room.  The bed is too open, too exposed, so I turn to my wardrobe.  Grabbing the duvet off my bed, I wrap it around me and sidle into the wardrobe, sliding down onto the floor, and pulling the duvet around me tightly, sighing in relief.

I don’t understand this need to be wrapped up, but it sure feels better.  I settle back and close my eyes, cuddling myself and rocking a bit.  Suddenly sitting up, I turn and prod at the back of the wardrobe, feeling relieved at it’s solidity.  I’d laugh at my need to check that Narnia isn’t back there, if I weren’t so…spooked.

I don’t know how long I sit there, I just know I need this.

My phone rings in the charger near my bed, nearly sending me into cardiac arrest.  Bear Necessities. Tom.  Fuck, I can’t let Tom see me like this, hiding in the back of my wardrobe, sniveling.  He’ll think I’m a complete nutter…

I’m such a coward, I let the thing go to voicemail.  I can’t talk.  I have no idea what to say to him, but I won’t lie to him.  I can’t see him like this.  He’ll want to know what’s wrong, and I don’t have an answer for him.  Mr. Curious, never leaving a goddamn thing alone until he understands…

Where did that annoyance come from?  Jeez, my emotions keep flipping around…  I pull the duvet closer.

I drifted off, I’m not sure for how long.  The front doorbell wakes me, ringing insistently.  I don’t want to answer, but it doesn’t stop.  Then my mobile is ringing as well.  Bear Necessities again.  Dragging myself out of the wardrobe, I drop my duvet and schlepp to the door, looking out through the peep reluctantly.  Tom, of course.  Shit!  Unexpected anger hazes my vision.

"Dammit, Tom!”  I yanked the door open. “I just want to be left alone for two minutes, is that too much to ask?!”  I’m being way more aggressive and rude than I had intended, and he swiftly interrupts my rant, shouldering through the door.

“What part of ‘Dom’ don’t you understand, my girl?  Do you really think that I will allow you to ignore me or push me away?”  His eyes narrowed at me.

“Let me in right now, Ellie, or say your safe word!  But know this; at some point we will be talking about this, whatever it is.”  He stands staring at me grimly.

The tears that I’ve been choking on all day, the ones I’ve been unable to shed, are suddenly filling my eyes.  I feel a sob well up in my throat.  I still don’t know why.  It just…fuck. 

 I look up into Tom’s adamant face and the tears spill over onto my cheeks.  My hand wavered upwards, as if to clutch at his sleeve.  But I can’t reach for him.

Through the smear of my tears I see his face change, losing the stern Dom, as he pulls me into a hug.  He clasps me tightly to him as a sob wells in my throat.  Tom’s hand cradles the back of my head, pressing my ear to his heart.  I can hear him crooning to me, as he rocks us gently side to side.

This feels like some kind of catharsis, though I still don’t know what this emotional storm is about.  I don’t understand how I am so clueless about the inside of my own head.  How can I fucking not know what my problem is, other than that I feel 'wrong’?

Tom’s arms are wrapped tightly around me, his face buried in the curls at the top of my head.  I feel his lower body shift as he pushes the door to with his foot.  He frees a hand to flip the lock.  Being aware of his movements brings me into the present, somehow calming me.  The reality of being surrounded by him, cared for by him.  A last sob erupts, this one in gratitude for his care.  God, my emotions are whipping me back and forth so fast I feel almost dizzy with it.

I gradually become aware that we’re still standing in my entry.  My tears have stopped, though my nose is running abominably.  Yeah.  Right onto Tom’s shirt.  I pull my head back slightly and look where my head has been laid. Oh god. Tears and snot and mascara smears smudge his blue shirt front.

“Stop that,” Tom says quietly.  

What?  Stop what?  I pulled my head back further and tip it up, looking into his face to discern his meaning.  What am I doing wrong now?

“Don’t even think about apologizing for messing my shirt,” he says, as he picks me up and carries me to the sofa.  Jeez, he sure does like to carry me.  I’m beginning to realize that he tends to pick me up and hold me anytime I’m upset.  The incongruous vision of a six year old Tom clutching his pooh bear pops into my head.  Yeah, he does it when he’s upset, too.

He sat in the corner of the sofa, settling me in his lap.  "I don’t know what it is, darling, but you have something in there,“ his big hand comes to rest between my breasts, over my heart, ” that needs to come out.“  His hand moves to my chin, his long fingers wrapping around my jaw and firmly lifting my head to look into his eyes.  He looks back searchingly.

"What is it, Ellie?” he asks solemnly.  My eyes fill again, but I’ve got to get hold of myself.  Somehow.

“I, I don’t know, Tom.  The problem is, I really don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me," I sniffled, "I just know something is…”

I feel a need to shrink in on myself as he studies me.  God.  What he must think of me.  I don’t even fucking know what is wrong with me.  How damn soppy is that?  How can I explain it to him, when I can’t even explain it to myself?!

And now he’s going to think that I’m deliberately withholding from him.  He’ll believe that I won’t answer his question, rather than that I can’t answer his question.  God, I’m so fucking useless!  I shivered again, my skin pebbling up.  Tom’s free hand is stroking gently up and down my arm.

“Have you been feeling chilled, darling?  Emotional and confused?”  I nodded, and shifted in his lap.  "How do you feel, physically?“

"Tired.  So, so tired,” I couldn’t help the small smile, “… a little sore.”

He smiled back.  "Good.“  Smug bastard.

"Love, have you ever heard of sub drop?” He asked me gently, continuing the hypnotic stroking of my arm, dropping a small kiss on my temple.

“Well, yeah.  But I thought that happens right after a particularly intense scene.  It’s not like you’ve been caning me, or something.  And I was fine all morning.”  I point out confusedly.

Tom grimaces a little. “I’m definitely not going to be caning you anytime.  But I’d say that this morning was fairly intense, wouldn’t you?” he asks with a wry smile.  "Sub drop can be delayed, darling.  Sometimes for days.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here.“

Tom pulls his phone out of his pocket an starts swiping.  I grin.  "Wikipedia again?”

He chuckles.  "No, just a little soothing music.“  He sets his phone down on the sofa next to us as something slow and soft plays quietly.  He settles me back, nestling me onto his chest again.

"Now shush, darling  None of your snarky commentary.  I’m here.  Just be with me for a little…”

I feel Tom’s chest rise as he takes a deep breath and fall as he sighs it out.  He’s wrapped around me so securely.  I wriggle a hand free, find his, and wrap around his thumb, just to hold onto him in turn.  His palm engulfs mine.  His other hand begins to stroke my hair, and soon I am relaxing into him.

That anxious, unsettled feeling is draining away as his calm and comfort flow in.

Eventually I stirred. “Tom?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

He tilts my chin up and purses his lips.  "Sorry for what, darling?”  
   
I squirm, a little worried that I’m opening up a can of worms that my arse will pay for.  But maybe I can head off what’s coming my way…

“Sorry that I ducked your call.  I should have talked to you…”

A big smile broke out on his face, like the damn sun coming through a rainy day.  Ok.  Whatever happens, that smile is worth everything.

“Smart girl, aren’t you?  Worried about a little punishment?” he asked with a knowing look.

I nodded vigorously.  "Plus, I really am sorry. I think you probably could have saved me a miserable afternoon, if I’d only talked to you.“

"Alright.”  He nuzzled my face and breathed in gently.  I think he might be a little relieved, too.  

"But it’ll be double, if you do it again,“ he growled into my ear. “Use your words, Ellie.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is just about pure smut.  It wrote itself.  Sorry.

I woke early, all this energy jumping out of my skin.  I hadn’t had the dream…  Tom was sleeping so peacefully beside me.  I watched him for a moment, because I could.  Then I slipped out of bed, leaving him sleeping, and went to the kitchen, planning breakfast for us.

I was dancing around the kitchen in my tee shirt and knickers with my earbuds in, as I put together ingredients for an omelette.  I turned and saw Tom prowling into the kitchen toward me.  He reminded me of nothing so much as a cheetah scenting its prey, long and lithe.

The instant I saw him I froze, my heart in my throat, my hands pulling at the hem of my tee in vain, trying to cover my bare thighs.  Tom crossed the room and stood directly in front of me, penning me between the counter and his body.  For all he doesn’t touch me, staring down into my eyes, I am unable to look away.  

My mouth instantly dries and I falter.  Tom reaches out a hand and steadies me, but his eyes never leave mine.  I straighten my spine, refusing to give into my desire to flee.

You don’t run from of predators.

I have no idea what’s coming next, but whatever it is, with Tom running the show, it’s bound to be…educational.

“Are you cold, Ellie?” He asks quietly.

“Um.  No?”  I wonder why he asked.  The temperature in the flat is quite comfortable.  Is he cold?

Tom leaned into my ear and growled  "Good.“

His long fingers reach for my tee and he slides it up my body and over my head, pulling my scrunchie out of my hair with it.  My curls fly everywhere, dammit, springing into my face.  I dragged a hand through them to pull them out of my eyes and mouth, spluttering a bit.

Tom’s eyes are practically glowing as he looks at me.  He steps back and I can nearly feel his eyes raking my naked skin.  I’ve got goose bumps, but it sure isn’t because I’m cold.  He reaches around me and turns off the water that I had utterly forgotten was running in the sink.

He growled, "I’m giving you a ten second head start to the centre of your bed.”

I blinked.  There’s no fucking way I can beat Tom to my bed with those long legs and only a ten second lead.  I’m beat before I start.  My competitive streak is quite healthy, but I’m not playing games that I know I’ve lost before I’ve even begun. I lost too many of those with James.

“Starting when?” I ask, innocently batting my eyes at him.  The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“One thousand, one.  One thousand, two…”

I slide out from between the counter and Tom, and do my best imitation of a slow sexy saunter toward the kitchen door.  I look over my shoulder with a grin.  What?  I can be naughty.  Naughty with Tom is fun…

He reaches ‘one thousand, ten’ and in about four long strides he throws me over his shoulder, and is striding down the hallway to my bedroom.  I was laughing around that damned bony shoulder jammed into my solar plexus.  He reaches my bedroom door and slaps my arse, jolting a squeal out of me, before he turns me toward the door and waits for me to open it.  

This is a peculiar nicety of Tom’s.  He always defers to me at my bedroom door.  I know that it’s some kind of symbolic for him that I’m always the one to open my door and invite him in.  It feels like I’m giving -no- granting him permission to do whatever filthy, wonderful thing he likes with me.  And I am. Oh, yes.

I reach for the door handle and push down, giving the door a small shove.

“Won’t you come in, Mr. Hiddleston?” I say mock formally.  How else, as I dangle upside down?  With his hand resting on my arse, he turns and walks through.

“Don’t mind if I do, darling.” He purrs.  He strides into the room and bending down, gently deposits me on my feet in the centre of the room, his hand trailing up my leg and over my hip, from his knee, steadying me before standing himself.

“Stay right there.” He orders coolly. His voice pools in my belly.

He walks around me slowly, trailing a finger around the skin of my waist.  I shivered again.  He stops in front of me, and watches his hands come to my breasts, reaching for my nipples, watching my responses closely.

I looked down.  My god.  The sight of his beautiful hands on my breasts fascinates me.  I watch as he brushes over my nipples, gently tugging them, watching as he turns them into hard little rocks.  One hand slides slowly down my belly.

“Open your legs for me, darling.”

I swallowed hard.  O-ok, then.  I glance down and slide my feet apart.  Tom’s large bare foot moves and presses against the inside on my left foot, widening the gap between my feet.  And, um, elsewhere.

Tom’s hand toys with the curls over my mound, setting off tiny sparks, before lightly tracing my lips back and forth.  He slid a finger between them gently to my entrance.  I swear, another twenty seconds of this and I’ll be dripping…

He pulls his hand back and brings the glistening digit to my mouth.  His moistened finger pulls my lower lip down, and he enters my mouth, tracing his fingertip over the edge of my teeth.  I close my lips over his finger and stroke it with my tongue.  That’s definitely me, but the added flavor of Tom is…

“Get on your knees for me, darling.”

My breath catches at the timbre of his voice, and I somehow slide to my knees without a graceless thump.  Tom’s hand cups my cheek and traces my lower lip as I look up at him.  I had thought of that as his 'Loki’ look, but I’m coming to realize that is actually very much a 'Tom’ look.

“Open my trousers, Ellie.” he whispers huskily.

I keep my eyes on him as my hands come up and unbuckle his belt, the metal making a distinctive rattle/clank as I release it that sends another shiver down my spine.  I pull his belt free and roll it, setting it on the floor next to my knee.  Reaching for the button on his waistband, I slip it through its hole.  Glancing down at my task, I see that he’s already fairly hard behind his zipper.  I slip my other hand into his trousers between the zipper and his cock.  I’m so not risking catching any part of him in that zipper! Someday I’m going to ask him about the commando thing…  I tug his zipper down and release it.  His cock surges through the opening, standing hard and beautiful against his belly.

I’ve never tasted another man before.  I’m both eager and hesitant.  James always demanded certain things in a certain way, and I’ve no idea if I will please Tom.  And I so want to please Tom…

Is it weird that James is so often in my head?  I’m not really comparing them in a competitive way.  Tom could do damn near anything with me, and I’d like it better than James. Of course James generally did things TO me, not WITH me.  But since before Tom, I’ve only ever experienced these things with James.  It’s…educational to experience the differences.  

One thing so far; Tom has never treated me like a fucktoy.  He’s always focused on me, on my reactions.  James was always all about what James wanted.

Tom tucks a curl behind my ear tenderly, tracing the curve.  His long fingers move to encircle the back of my neck and massage there a moment before moving up into my hair and gripping a fistful.  He draws my face upward and watches, waiting.  For me?

“Yes, please.” I whisper, and something changes in his face.  His eyes close, and when he opens them, the blue is darker, and they blaze at me.

“Open your mouth, love,” he commands quietly.  "Let me in.“

I lick my lips and part them.

It’s…a bit daunting, his intent attention, constantly letting me know that he knows he’s speaking to me, not anyone else.  Tom is, for all intents and purposes, 'learning’ me.  I can see him noticing a change of expression, a tilt of my head, a clench of my hand.

I know this because I’m watching him just as closely as he’s watching me.  My overwhelming impression of Tom is that he’s inquisitive, as curious as a cat.

It’s clear that he’s figuring me out, figuring out what makes me tick.  I’ve never experienced anyone’s concentrated attention this way, and I seriously can’t decide if I should be freaked out by it.  It’s a little scary, but it’s also fucking sexy as hell.

Tom brings my head forward and brushes my lips with his cockhead.  So soft and velvety, so hot and swollen.  He nudges against my lips and I open wider, my tongue darting out to taste him for the first time.  Oh!  He tastes so…  He tastes like, like Tom.  Pure concentrated, distilled Tom.  It’s nearly overwhelming.

Tom slides slowly into my mouth, as if he wants to feel the different textures and surfaces of my mouth.  I rub my tongue up the underside of him, feeling the hard silk of him, the veins that trace over him, before closing my mouth around him and giving a light suck.

I hear him groan above me, and it spurs me to be a little bolder. I take a chance and bring my hands to his thighs to brace myself.  I know in my head and in my heart that Tom would never, but I still somehow halfway expect him to wrench me to my feet by my hair and shout at me for not keeping my hands behind my back, and I can feel my heart begin to hammer. I push forward to slide him further in.

Tom’s hands tighten on my hair, and for just a second I’m afraid, but he doesn’t pull.  His message is clear.  Tom is in control.  He controls how much and when.  He pulls all the way out, and slides right back in, as I stroke my tongue along him.  I understand now.   Tom is probing my limits, watching my responses, feeling my reactions.  He’s making sure he doesn’t hurt me, or frighten me.  I’m not sure how I feel about that.  I appreciate his care, but I’m not, I don’t want him to think that I’m fragile.  I let him feel just a hint of my teeth, and then I relax.

I rein in my impatience, and surrender to his pace, his desire to explore, to know me.  Wow, who knew that there could be so much two way conversation in a simple blow job?  I’m learning that with Tom there are always layers.

He releases one hand to smooth over my hair in a caress before sliding around to the back of my neck and pressing me forward again.  And again. A little bit deeper each time, until his cockhead brushes the back of my throat.  With the next stroke I swallow as he touches me there, pulling him into my throat.  I hear him gasp and groan, and open my eyes to see him with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed tightly shut.  I moan a bit, knowing the vibration travels into his cock.

I don’t really have much gag reflex anymore, James having beaten it out of me.  Figuratively, I mean.  He’d never cared if I gagged, it never stopped him doing exactly as he pleased; but I  hated gagging, so I’d learned to suppress it.  I’m happier for it, especially now, as Tom is a bit longer than James.

Tom slid in and out of my throat, considerately allowing me to breathe between strokes, before moving to a shallower, faster pace.  God, I can feel myself beginning to drip down my own leg.  Since he doesn’t appear to mind being touched, I slide my hands around to his arse, urging him on.

Oh, there he goes.  He grips my hair tighter, a delicious pain in my scalp, and the muscles of his arse tighten and flex .  Harder.  Faster.  I look up and watch him.

"Oh god,” he groans, “I’m going to come, darling, oh Ellie…take it, yes!  Take it all, take me…oh please…!”

He plunges deeply into my throat and stills at his full extent, as his cock swells and bursts, pulsing out his climax as I swallow and swallow, my hands digging into the muscles of his arse, holding him to me until I must breathe.

Releasing my hair carefully, a finger at a time, he cradles my head in his big hands, slowly withdrawing from my mouth.

Tom went to his knees in front of me and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me so tightly, holding me as his breath and heart rate slows.  I’m tucked under his chin, his cheek lying on my hair.

“Are you alright?”  he murmurs into my hair.  I nod.

“Thank you, darling girl.  That was wonderful.”

Yeah, it was.  

Imagine being thanked for a blow job instead of critisised!!

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

I flinched.

“Ellie, I am not going to hurt you, love!”  Tom raised his head from between my legs to look up my body, catching my gaze. 

His eyes sparked at me and he scrubbed a hand through his hair.  He looks frustrated and exasperated, and I want to curl into a ball.  I bite my lips, trying to stop the tears welling in my eyes.  I knew he wasn’t too happy that I flinched every time his mouth came near my pussy, but this time…  He has always respected my flinch, moving away before I panicked too much, but I knew it bothered him immensely that I went rigid when he put his mouth there.  I couldn’t.  Couldn’t come.

I watch his jaw clench as he sits up on his heels.

“I’ll tell you again, love,” his voice much softer than I expect.  "I’ll never bite you.  I’ll never hurt you like that.  I don’t care about the scars on your body, I care about you!“  He pushed me back, leaned over me and nestled his hips between my own.  I saw decision harden in his eyes.  

"What’s your safe word, Ellie?”

My breath strangles for a moment.  “R-red.” I whisper.

He narrows his eyes at me.  "Louder, Ellie.  Your safe word won’t do you any damned good if I can’t hear it.“  He waits.

"Red.” I say louder.

“Good girl,” he looks at me sternly. “I promise you won’t need it, but it’s there, Ellie. It’s always there.”

Shit.  What’s he going to do?  His Dom is all out front right now.  I shiver.

“We’re going to get you through this,” he says firmly.  "Together, Ellie.“

He waits, pinning me with his eyes, for my response.  I don’t know if I can do this, whatever this is.  All I know for sure is that the thought of anyone’s mouth on my pussy makes me cringe.  I don’t, I desperately don’t want to disappoint Tom, but I know I already am.

"I don’t know if I can…” I whisper, ashamed.

“Darling girl, you don’t have to do anything alone.  Did I not say ‘together’?  We will figure this out together. We, not you.  You are not in this alone.”  

I took a deep breath, and looked up at Tom.  He was looking at me with determination, and…sympathy?  Where I’d expected impatience, maybe annoyance, I’d received tenderness.  Oh.

He sits up, taking my hands, wrapping an arm around me, speaking to me through my hair.

“Ellie, I know you’re not flinching away from me deliberately.  I know you’re not that kind of drama queen.  So can you please stop worrying that I’ll see you that way?  You haven’t done anything wrong!  Darling girl, the scars he left on your body are inconsequential.  They’re fine, they’ve healed.  It’s the scars that he left in your head that haven’t healed well.  You didn’t deserve the pain and the terror and the scars.  You still don’t.   
   
The only thing that’s on you is your refusal to believe that it can get better, to let me help, to put your hand in mine and let us find a way to soothe your scars.  You’re still letting him have power over you, darling. But together, we have so, so much more power.   
   
"I’m not asking you to do anything by yourself.  That scar,” he brushed the hair off my face and tapped my temple, “is very much my scar, too.  Our scar.  We can’t keep avoiding it.  Will you let us soothe it, make it better?  Together?”

My god.  Together?  Tom speaks as if there are three people in this: him, me, and us.  I have a problem; Tom has a problem; we have a problem?  I had never looked at it this way.  I always thought it was my problem.  My fear to cope with.  But my fear, my problem, were creating a problem for Tom, for us.  I knew this, but I had been unable to figure out how to fix it.  I tried so hard to keep my problem from him, to keep it from affecting him.  And despite how hard I tried, I had utterly failed.  

But together?  Our problem?  I can stop working so hard to figure out how to keep it away from him?  Let him help?  

I sighed.  God, I’m such an idiot.  Maybe one day I’ll finally get this D/s thing, and Tom won’t have to carry all the weight alone.  Maybe one day I’ll figure out how to share.  At least I get this, now.  I’ve really been very selfish.  I’m not doing myself, or him, or us, any good by trying to keep the problem to myself.

“I’m sorry, Tom.  Please…”  My voice faltered, “please…help me?"

"That’s right, darling girl.  When you need help, all you ever have to do is ask.”

He leans over me and runs his nose slowly up the side of my jaw and cheek, into my hair, drawing a long slow breath.

“I love the scent of you, darling.  Finer than the finest wine…” he murmured into my ear.  He travels to my lips and whispers against them.

“The sweetest lips… I love tracing my tongue over the bow of this full bottom lip.  It was made for biting…”  He traces a finger over my lips.  "And this double bow of your top lip is sweeter yet…“

Oh my god, he’s turning this whole thing into a seduction!  I can already feel a need to squirm to release some of the tightening tension in my lower belly.

"Give me your mouth, let your tongue come play with me…”  His tongue slides into my mouth, dancing over the edge of my teeth, finding my tongue and stroking it, teasing it.  Luring my tongue out, he licks and sucks gently on it before nibbling on my lower lip, tugging on it a bit and leaning back, smiling into my eyes.  He caresses my face, and I nuzzle into his palm, placing a small kiss there.

Tom trails a finger across my jaw, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my gaze to his.

“I’m going to taste you, my darling.  All of you.  You’re going to dance on the tip of my tongue, oh yes…  You’ll feel so good on my tongue…”

His hand falls away from my chin, tracing a path down my throat and chest, between my breasts up the underside of my left breast, along the outside curve, over the top, and back down between, repeating the circle on the other side, becoming not a circle, but an infinity loop.

His soft warm lips move to that spot under my ear that seems to connect directly to my pussy.  Every time he touches his tongue to me there I feel my pussy contract, a rush of moisture pooling.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, darling Ellie… I’m going to touch,” a fingertip brushes lightly across my nipple, “and taste,” a long lick up my neck, “every centimeter of you.”  My breath stutters and I feel him smile against my neck, just there, making me gasp as he nips the skin, before licking gently at the spot.  His tongue and lips travel slowly over my collarbones, searching out the place he wants with his mouth, as his hand continues to loop slowly around my breasts, the circles getting smaller with each pass.  I can feel my nipples, both of them, tightening into hard points.

Tom finds the spot he wants, just above my left breast, he licks, and then begins to suckle, gently drawing the skin into his mouth slowly, over and over, at that one spot, sucking harder and releasing me for another lick and kiss, again and again.  Fuck.  The sweet pain of his marking is making me whimper and writhe.  Oh god, he’s going to pull my clit right through my body into his mouth from that spot!  

My body arches helplessly up and my hands come to his head, holding his mouth to me…  Oh, don’t stop….

A moment, two moments, an eternity of all my senses focused intently on that one spot over my breast, his mouth drawing at me in time to my heartbeat.  Oh, fuck.

At last, and too soon, he leaves go, licking and soothing his mark.  He leans back to survey what he has done, his hand coming up to touch and trace the mark.

“You are mine, do you hear, Ellie?  You are mine…and not his.  Never his.  Only mine…”  His head dips down once more to sweetly kiss his mark.

“Please, Tom…yours…” I tell him, my hands clenching in his hair.

Tom reaches up and pulls my hands from his hair, transferring them to one hand, holding my wrists over my head, sliding his other hand down my body to my mound, his fingers exploring my folds, teasing but not touching where I want him most.

“Shall I bind you, my Ellie?  You are safe with me, my darling, and you are always allowed to say your safe word…  Oh, sweet,” he murmurs into his mark, “I will never hurt you, I only want to bring you joy, bring you bliss…”

He bites there, hard but not hard enough to break the skin, nor even enough to bruise, but holy fuck!  My breath stops, time suspended, as one part of my brain cries for more, and another cries in fear.

Suddenly he lets go and licks gently again at his mark.  I almost cry out at the loss of the overwhelming sensation he was giving me. The loss of fear because he stopped.

“Shall I bind you, darling girl?” he asks again.  "Do you need to be helpless?  Do you need me to restrain you before I taste your pussy, darling?“

"Oh god…”  Oh, please…he wants an answer?

“Tell me, girl.  Tie you down, make you helpless to accept my mouth on your pussy, or leave you free with your fear?”

Oh. Fuck. Me.  I can’t hold back the whimper…he’s asking me, demanding that I make a real decision- with his fucking sinful mouth on me!

I bring my hand to his chest and push him back from me.  He lets me, watching my face carefully.  I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to think.  Then I realised.  Thinking is what got me into this conundrum to begin with.  Worrying, and being fearful…  Can I let Tom take all those decisions away from me?

“Yes, Tom, please, please tie me?”  If he ties me, I'll have to place myself entirely in his hands, his beautiful hands… I can leave my body, my fears in his loving, capable hands, and know that he will care for me.  I watch the flame light in his eyes.  Oh, yes.

It’s what I need, I know it now.  He, fucking James, took this from me without asking.  He deceived me, lulled me with false security, and struck with deliberate cruelty, uncaring of me.  James did not just violate me, he broke my trust.  My trust in him, and my trust in myself, my trust in others.  

He tried to mark me as permanently his but, it dawns on me, those marks only have the meaning that I give them.  I can change the meaning.  I can give them to Tom, to us.  I can replace the fear and betrayal of those marks with Tom’s loving kindness.

Tom, Tom is asking me for this, to give him this.  To give me this.

He sits up on his heels and looks down at me, clearly checking that I meant what I said, his eyes skimming my body, verifying my sincerity.  Oh my god, I think I could come entirely on the fact that he is so focused on my need…

Tom smiled, certain of me now.  "Oh yes, sweet,“ he whispers. "I’m going to tie you so tight…  Take all your decisions away.  You won’t be able to move.  I’m going to eat. you. up.”  Fuck!  I should be terrified, but…

Tom dips his head and suckles strongly on my breast, his other hand on my other breast, kneading, plucking and pinching the nipple, driving me wild.

He sits up decisively, and gets off the bed, moving to my dresser.  Oh hell.  He casts an evil grin over his shoulder, waggling his eyebrows at me, and opens my lingerie drawer, delving in and plucking out a scarf, turning to me.

“One day, darling, we’re going to pick out some proper cuffs for you.  But this will do for now…”  He stalks back to the bed, his eyes avidly mapping me.

“Give me your wrist, Ellie,” he orders quietly, holding out his hand for me.  A demand, a request that I submit to him.  I extend my right wrist to him with no hesitation, and he circles it with his large hand, pulling it to himself, placing my palm against his belly while wrapping the scarf around my wrist as he stares into my eyes.

Tom pulls my wrist above me, threading the scarf around the bedpost, and capturing my other wrist, securing it with the scarf.  Oh god.  Yes.  No.  Yes!  Oh yes…

“Not too tight, darling girl?  Does it hurt anywhere?  You’ll tell me?  Use your safe word?”  He murmurs.  I nod.  My  "Yes, Tom" comes out in a breathy whisper.  Tom nuzzles my cheek.  

"That’s my girl,“ he says, and stands, looking down at me.

Moving to sit on the bed next to me, Tom runs a hand down my body.  "You’re so beautiful like this, Ellie.  Giving yourself to me this way, so open and vulnerable.  That you trust me with this, with your body, with your fears…is the most unimaginable gift.”

He leans over and places a soft kiss between my breasts, over my heart.  "You humble me…“ his lips brushing my skin as he speaks.

Then he climbs over me, caging my body with his, his knees on either side of my hips, his powerful arms holding himself up over me, strong and sheltering.  I look up at his wide chest, filling my vision, keeping me from all harm.

"You’re safe with me darling, always safe…”  He lowers his body slowly onto mine, letting his weight press me into the bed as he kisses me sweetly.

He lies prone on me a moment, his warm weight a comfort, then begins sliding his body down mine, his chest dragging against my breasts.  My nipples feel hard enough to dig furrows in his skin as he moves.  He pushes a knee between my thighs and grinds himself down over my mound, a firm rocking pressure.  I want to raise my hips, rock back against him, but his weight holds me down.

“Close your eyes for me Ellie.” he says softly.  He waits until my eyes are shut tight and then I feel his weight slowly shift off me.  I feel his hands checking the binding on my wrists. His hands glide down my arms, down my chest, both hands circling my breasts, zeroing in on my nipples.  His clever fingers are plucking and tugging, making me arch my chest into his hands.

One hand is replaced by a warm wet mouth, sucking sweetly at first, then he bites down, just enough to feel his teeth, to feel his tongue pushing my nipple up against the back of his teeth, and then he sucks.  Oh so hard!

I give myself up to him, to the sweet sensations he is bringing me, the sharp scrape and pinch of teeth, the soothing lick of tongue, the pink sunburn feeling of his beard stubble grazing over and over my skin, sensitizing it, the murmured words of sin and wanting, the near constant litany of the filthy things he is going to do to me.

I find myself tossing on a tide of lust, wet and wanting and straining toward him as his fingers slip into my folds, twisting and swirling, driving his fingers into me, faster and slower, deeper, desperate for him to touch me there, touch my clit.

His mouth sucks another mark onto the skin of my hip, god, so good.  He sits up over me, watching his fingers dip into me, slicking my moisture over his hand, up through my folds, the barest fleeting touch on my clit, and back.

I can’t, I can’t stop the pleading sounds that come from my mouth, the  "fuck, Tom, please!“ and "oh god…!” the moans and whimpers, gasps and whining, and even grunts of need overwhelming me, god, I’m desperate for him to…just…fucking…

“TOUCH ME!!”  I screamed at him.

“Oh fuck yes, sweet!  I am going to touch you, taste you, make you come so hard…  What do you need, Ellie?  Tell me, tell me now.”  His fingers thrust hard into me demanding an answer from me.

“God, Tom, anything!  Fucking please…!”

“Use your words, Ellie.  Tell. Me. Now!” He demands, forcing me to push the words out, to make my demand, expose my need, say the words.

My hips are writhing as much as his muscled forearm allows, pinning my hips to the bed.  I’m completely out of control.  Tom is…is in control of me, of everything.  The thing that my brain most did not want to say falls out of my mouth with a scream.

“Fuck Tom!  Put your mouth on me, suck me, oh god, do it now…oh please!  I’m whining and shouting, so fucking desperate…

Tom growls, "oh, yes!” and dives his head down into my pussy, a rough first swipe of his tongue from opening to clit and every place in between, driving another scream from me.

And then.  Then he fucking pulls away, licking his lips, watching me as I helplessly thrust my hips up, desperate to feel his mouth on me again.

“Tom,” I gasp, “please, Tom, please…help…help me, god, Tommmmm!”

His mouth came down over my clit, his hot, wet mouth, in the most sensual, gorgeous kiss of my life…his wonderful, amazing, brilliant, tender, fucking mouth…

Tom utterly changes the pace on me.  Where I was screaming on the precipice a moment ago, suddenly I’m being floated along a calm, loving river, his mouth caring for me, gentling me along.  His fingers find and lazily stroke against that spot inside, his mouth sweetly and languidly kissing my pussy, stroking and tasting me.

Tom moans against me.  "So good darling, you taste so good.“  He licks another long stripe up me, and settles his mouth over my clit, teasing with his tongue tip, curling it around me, stroking over the top, again and again with more pressure, more urgency, more and more and more…!

White lights burst behind my eyelids, my body arching so hard upward, straining to shed my weight and catapult up into the stratosphere, there to whirl among the stars.  My body clenches around his fingers, my thighs clamp around his head, and the string tethering me to the earth is cut.  I am suspended, held aloft by Tom’s strong hands and glorious tongue.  My legs fall open, and I float to earth on the contracting tide.  God.

"Oh, my sweet girl.  Ellie, you beautiful creature… I want in you now.”  Tom moves up and hooks my knees over his elbows, opening me wide for his thrust, with a loud groan. He pushes into me slowly, inexorably, all the way, until his curls are twined with mine, and he simply can get no farther inside me, there to grind against me, staring into my eyes.

After a long moment Tom’s eyes fall shut, and he begins to move within me, muttering praises and imprecations, starting with a slow roll of his hips, over and over, clearly savoring the feel of me, of us.

I want, I want my hands free now, I want my hands on him, to hold him to me.  I struggle for the first time against my bonds.  "Tom,“ I whine, "please… I need to touch you.”  
Tom reaches up and pulls on the tail of the scarf, and it instantly releases.   I squeeze my hands several times, and then lower them to his face, running one hand through his hair, pushing his curls off his forehead.

I lean up to his ear and whisper harshly, “Fuck me Tom.  Fuck me hard!”

He does.  Oh, he does.  His hips buck into me at my words.  "Oh, fuck!  Hold on to me, Ellie, hold me tight!“

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and cling to him, my body straining up into his as he sheds control, rutting and plowing into me, with a grunt or a cry at every stroke, my voice meeting his.

Tom has a snarl on his face, his body lost with abandon.  If there ever was a moment to be afraid of Tom, it was this one, for his complete loss of control as he cried out and slammed himself into me.

But I had no fear.  All I wanted, with every fibre of my being was to feed his abandon.  To let him know deep down that I want to take everything that he has to give me.  
I know now.  I love him.  And even if he never says it, I know.  The knowledge came crashing down over me, that enormous wave, rolling me, driving me.  I came again as he did.  Just as hard as the first time.  God, I thought I’d fly apart in a million little pieces.  

We came.

"My girl, my amazing, brave, darling girl…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, of course emotional scars like Ellie's aren't healed in one scene. They're healed over time, through trust and consistency and persistence. Healing is always a journey.


	21. Chapter 21

He brought over a tied bundle of green silken cord.  He sat next to me and untied the bundle.  There was an awful lot of cord…  He lifted a strand of it.

“Touch it, Ellie.”  My hand came hesitantly to the cord and I ran my hand along the length that Tom held.   He lifted it and ran it slowly across my lips.  "Smooth, isn’t it?“ he said in a warm gentle voice.  "Soft and smooth, darling.  I don’t want your beautiful skin damaged…  Pull on it.”

I gave the cord a tug.  There was no give, it was strong…

“I’m going to bind you, Ellie.  It won’t hurt, but you will be helpless.”  A shiver ran down my spine.  A little bit of anxiety there.  And anticipation.  Oh yes.

“Listen to me, Ellie,” he commanded as he tipped my head up with a finger under my chin, capturing my eyes.  His eyes were dark, but so calm and confident.  "You must tell me if anything feels too tight.  If you have any tingling or numbness, or if you get a cramp.  Promise me?“  He sat and waited patiently for me to answer.

I was slow to nod, already feeling the seduction of my body being held tightly for him.   "Yes, Tom.”  Looking into his warm eyes, I could fall into them forever.

“Thank you, my darling.  Remember you have a safe word if you need it.  Now, hold still for me…”

Tom lifted a section from the centre of the cord over my head and under my arms, pulling it around to wind about my nude torso just under my breasts.  He pulled the other end through at my back, and up over my left shoulder, crossing over my chest and under my right breast, repeating in the other direction with the other end of the slender rope.  All the time murmuring of my beauty and sweetness, placing soft kisses on my skin before covering it with the cord.  The silk covered cording slid smoothly, almost slithering over my skin, like a caress.

He circled it around and above and between my breasts and torso several times.  I watched as he created a harness that squeezed my breasts into prominence, making them jut out from my chest, the pressure firm, but not painful or pinching as I’d expected.  He then tied a series lacings around my torso, as if I were wearing a green crisscrossed corset of cording, pulling the cord fairly tightly around me, but being careful not to interfere with my breathing.  

"These will leave beautiful pink marks on your skin…“ he murmured.  "You’ll wear my bindings even after I remove the cord…”

He continued the lacings down my legs to the knee, binding my thighs together.  When he was done, he placed a sweet kiss on my mound and on each breast.  He then stood and slowly stripped off as he watched me squirm, testing the limits of my bonds.  I was well and truly tied.  He climbed back onto the bed.

Picking up a length of blue silk ribbon he ordered “Give me your wrists, Ellie.”  I held them out, offering them to him.

Tom wrapped the silk ribbon around both wrists and tied a bow, lifting my hands to his lips.  He lifted them above my head, leaving them there.  He moved over my body, his thighs straddling me, his hard length pressing firmly against the bindings over my belly, and his hands on either side of my head, hovering over me, looming over me.

I dragged my attention away from the tantalising small hard nipples and firm chest in my eye line, and tipped my head way back, looking up into his face.  His expression is fierce, possessive.  His eyes are heated, staring down at me, that blue flame flaring.  Every hair on my body has stood to attention, almost as if my very skin were reaching for him.  There’s a whisper of instinctual shiver, that ancient trepidation of being caged, helpless.  But I have never felt so safe, so cared for.  Tom is… Tom is my lover and my protector…

Just as these thoughts cross my mind, Tom’s face softens.  "Ellie.“ he whispers hoarsely, and he dips his head and rubs his cheek against mine, rather like a cat.  He’s claiming me.  His stubble scrapes deliciously across my skin.  He moves his cheek across my mouth, the feeling of his stubble magnified by the sensitivity of my lips, before he soothes the chafe with his tongue.  I can’t resist pulling my bound hands over his head, effectively including him in my bindings.  He licks his way demandingly into my mouth, invading even as I submit, thrusting into my mouth, sucking my lower lip and tugging with his teeth until it feels swollen and well used.  He reaches behind his neck and pulls my hands from his hair, raising them back over my head.

His mouth slides over my chin with a scraping of teeth to my jaw and neck, licking, biting and sucking, marking my collarbone.  It feels like a string connected to my clit, pulling taut with every suck, making my hips writhe, making me pant with need.  He sits back a bit and grazes one breast with his knuckles, watching.

"Look how gorgeous, Ellie.” he murmured, “high and full…and yearning.”  I arch my back, nearly whimpering, begging for more, he leans down and licks my nipple, and then lifts me, turning me toward the cheval mirror in the corner.

I looked at myself and gasped, amazed.  I…I looked beautiful, and delicate.  Delicate?  Me??  But it was true.  He had made me delicate, beautiful…and sexy.

Tom runs his hands down my body and grips my hip, turning me over helplessly and runs his hands possessively down my back.  His hands leave me for a moment, I can’t see what he’s doing, but I feel him moving about.  He kneels over me, his knees to either side of my thighs.

Then he’s lifting my hips just slightly and sliding his hand beneath me to my mound, stroking up and back teasingly over my lips with one finger.  A finger that is cool and slick.  He’s put lube on his finger…this time he presses the length of his finger against the length of my slit, pressing, wedging his long finger between my lips so that my entire sex from clit to entrance is being touched.  My legs are tied together so tightly I can’t move even a little to spread and make room for him…

I moan, all I can do is push my hips down against his hand.   
   
“Oh yes, darling.  Fuck yourself against my finger.  It feels good doesn’t it?  But you want more, don’t you?”

“God, yes Tom, please…!”

Tom’s free hand reaches up and grasps my tied wrists, capturing and holding me, as he settles his length along my arse crease, and slides, slickly, coolly against the groove.  
I stiffen, anxiety blooming.

“Tom?”

He slides his length against me again, imitating the move with the finger wedged between my lips.

“Don’t worry, darling girl.  I know your limits.  Trust me…” he murmurs in my ear, and stretches out full prone over my back, his lovely weight pressing me into the bed, holding me down.

I relax against him as he repeats the move.  God.  So good.

“Alright, Ellie?  I’m not too heavy, am I?”

“No,” I gasp, “I’m good…please…more?”

Tom begins to move, fucking his lubed cock along my groove, rocking me, his hand under me, mimicking his thrusts, the lubed finger sliding, sliding…ah, fuck!  I can hear his breath in my ear getting harsher.

“Fuck, Ellie!  You…make me so…damn…hard!”

Tom is moving against me faster, the length of his finger rubbing over and over my clit…I’d scream if I had the breath, but all I can do is groan as he drives me, drives us.  With a last grunting cry he comes all over my back.  I can feel his hot cum spurting, roping onto my back.

It sets me off, sending me into the stratosphere screaming, pulsing, jesus.

Tom rolls off to my side, laughing, setting off my own giggles, once I got sufficient breath back.

“Damn, girl! That was…you are so…”  Apparently Mr. Verbal doesn’t have the words.  He rolls me and begins to gently untie me, kissing along the marks in my skin.  Making it all better…

How can he possibly make THAT better?!  But he does.


	22. Chapter 22

“Not in this lifetime, Hiddleston!”  I put my finger up, warning him off.

Tom’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise, and then rapidly lowered as he took in my unexpectedly vehement response.  His eyes narrowed, and his mouth went a bit grim.  Yeah, his mouth is doing that thing.

“What’s the problem, Ellie?”

“Seriously?!”  I feel myself getting agitated.  Can’t he see that I just don’t want to?  “The problem is that I have zero interest in going to any kind of Red Carpet event! Ever!”

“I reiterate, darling, what is the problem,” he asks coolly.

“The problem is that I don’t want to go, isn’t that enough??”  I threw my hands in the air.  "I am so fucking not going out on a goddamned Red Carpet with you!  Just no, ok?!“  My voice is going higher and tighter, anxiety churning in my gut.

Tom’s eyes narrowed, following the path of my gesticulating hands.  "Christ, Ellie, I asked you to be my date, is that such a terrible thing?”  Tom folded his arms and stood straight, spreading his feet wide.  "I’m not going to strip you naked and drag you down the bloody thing by your hair!  Just calm down, will you?“

I jam my hands up into my hair and pull, screaming in frustration.  Because telling me to just calm down is really going to calm me down!  Not!  Fuck!

"Ellie!!”  Tom roars over my scream, shocking me.  He has never shouted at me before.  His face has gone red, the hectic colour slashing over his face, even lighting his ears.  He took a large step toward me, reaching for me.   
   
I jump back, startled.  Tom wouldn’t…Tom couldn’t…?  I set myself, my body automatically falling into a defensive stance.

He halts abruptly, almost rocking back in shock at my over the top reaction.  He drops his hand and steps back, his breath going out hard.  I watch as he pales.  I’m frozen to the spot.  What did I do??  Why did I push him this way?  Oh, fuck, what have I done?

We stare at each other.  Tom takes a deep breath and turns, moving a few deliberate steps away, his head bowed and his hands going into his pockets.  Mastering himself.

A tiny, unlovely piece of me is pleased that I had been able to provoke him enough to make him lose his cool.  The rest of me is drowning in guilt…

I stood still, my heart in my throat, actually shaking, wondering what comes next, watching Tom carefully.  Will he leave me??  Oh, fuck.  Oh no, please!  Tears spring to my eyes.  I didn’t mean to…

He turns away and walks quietly to the leather chair next to my sofa, sitting back and spreading his knees.  He gives every appearance of being relaxed…if you don’t notice the tension in his hands.

He tilts his head at the sofa.  "Sit, Ellie.“ he commands, his eyes dark with some emotion.  Anger?  I don’t know, yet.  

I stare at him a moment more before I skirt around him, my stomach in a knot, and sit gingerly on the edge at the far end of the sofa.  Tom’s hand comes up and a finger rubs at his lower lip as he contemplates me.  Yeah, that’s not uncomfortable at all…  His hand falls to the chair arm.

"I apologize for shouting, Ellie,” he said calmly.  "You don’t ever have to be afraid of me, you know.  I would never hurt you…  Never, Ellie.“

I flop back into the sofa, letting my back slump onto the sofa back, my breath going out of me in a whoosh.  He so doesn’t get it…

"Do you hear me, darling?  I. will. never. hurt. you.”  He waits patiently for my acknowledgment.

I blow out a breath.  Oh god here we go.  I clear my throat.  I can barely look at him, watching my hands twist anxiously, darting sideways glances at him.

“Tom, I…don’t you understand?  I’m not afraid that you’re going to hurt me… I’m, I’m afraid that I’ll lose my temper and hurt you!  …Did you forget what I did to James?”  My voice comes out in a whisper.

Tom blinks several times at me.  I guess this is a new thought; that I might be dangerous to HIM.  To his credit, he’s thinking about it, not dismissing it out of hand.  That finger is rubbing his taut lip again.

“Huh.  That’s…unexpected.”  He sat forward and said low, with certainty, “Ellie, darling girl, you’re not going to hurt me.”  I open my mouth, but he puts up a hand, stopping my words.  "I know that you could.  I also know that you won’t.  Sweetheart, you…hold me in your hands every day.  My security is in your hands.  There are any number of ways that you could deal me a more devastating blow than a mere physical one.  No, I know that you won’t hurt me…whatever your provocation.“

I scrub my hands through my hair.  I wish it were that easy.

"T-Tom…”

He holds out a hand.  "Come here, darling girl. I need you…“  Oh, I so want to sit on his lap and let him comfort me.  But.

"I. Need.You.” he repeats.

My breath heaves out at that.  How could I not…?  I get up and move to him, setting my hand in his.  He pulls me into his lap, his arms going tightly around me and his chin resting in my hair.  I can feel his breath catch and hold for a moment before it sighs out of him.  I take a deep breath of him.  How… did I deserve this man?  We sat for long moments, just breathing each other in.

“I’m not afraid of you, Ellie.  You don’t need to be afraid of you, either.  Darling, we’re going to find a way for you to talk about this without feeling so overwhelmed that you have to shut down, or shout at me.  Sweetheart, I won’t press you now.  But I want, I need to know what the problem is.  The event isn’t for another fortnight, there’s plenty of time to figure this out.”

“Plenty of time or not, I just don’t want to go, Tom.” I mumble into his shirt.

Tom had surprised me with his invitation, asking me to be his date at the upcoming premiere that he’d been booked into.  My immediate visceral reaction had been an unequivocal ‘oh hell no!’  I don’t want anything to do with his work life, other than as an admiring anonymous audience member.  There are just too many pitfalls for me there…

All those beautiful people.  Watching Tom flirt with, and pose for selfies with the fangirls.  The couture gowns and dripping jewels.  Reporters and photographers recording every word, every interaction.  Crowds of screaming women.  People rushing about.  Every single one of my social anxiety buttons pushed all at once.

I don’t do well with large groups of people.  I’m fine with just a few, but the chaos of a Red Carpet event…sounds like my idea of hell.  Not to mention the aftermath of appearing so publicly with Tom fucking Hiddleston.  Tabloids and gossip, and 'What could he possibly see in HER?’   
   
And then the possibility, almost a certainty, that my Aunt Patricia would see a tabloid photograph of me with him.

I left that house with no intention of ever going back.  I want nothing to do with that family, and I deliberately never gave them an address once I’d moved out.  Never had any contact.  Wills was the only half-way decent one of the bunch, but even he never stood up to his family over their treatment of me.  But Aunt Patricia is an avid gossip page reader, and she would be bound to notice me if I ever were unfortunate enough to appear in one of her rags.  And she would hunt me down, oh yes.  Not because she had any interest in me, but solely to get close to Tom.  I can’t bear the idea.

I feel the guilt stealing over me.  I cannot risk opening that Pandora’s Box.  Tom will never be tainted with my history.  Not ever.  And that means not risking being seen, being photographed with him at a massive public event.  No.

His arms tighten.  "How about this?  Instead of telling me why you don’t want to go with me, tell me why you don’t want to tell me?

I sighed.  I don’t know if I can even do that.

“I’ll…I’ll think about it…”  Tom nods into my hair.

***  
I staggered through the lounge to my front door, standing on my tiptoes to gaze blearily out the peep.  Fuck.  Tom.

I unchained and unlocked the door, opening it.

“Tom?”

He stood on my doormat at half-two-fucking-am, looking like all that, wearing that gorgeous Armani tux, the bow tie pulled loose and hanging down his chest, the top two buttons of his snowy white shirt undone.  His natural hair colour gleaming under the street lamp, slightly long and curling under his ears.

He stands on my stoop in his tuxedo, back from his Red Carpet event, and apparently, an after party, a half full wine glass dangling from his long fingers, and a long black limo at the kerb.  He surveyed me coolly.

“Ellie.”  

That voice.  It wraps around my throat, stopping my own voice.  I blink several times, coming more awake, my brain finally beginning to shake off the cobwebs of sleep.  I swallow, looking up at him, the late night air swirling around us.  I shiver, though the air isn’t cold.

Tom steps over my threshold, crowding me back.  I glance down at a pair of long mirror-finish patent leather shoes, and back up to his face.  Nothing.  His face tells me nothing, his lips unsmiling, intent, his breathing deep and even, his eyes steady on mine.

He lifted the wine glass to my lips, settling his other hand on the back of my neck and tilting the glass up to my mouth, giving me a small sip of the crisp white wine.  It’s a lovely wine, but maybe dry white is not a really good combination with my suddenly dry mouth…  Holy fuck.  Is he really standing on my step, in that tuxedo, looking like that, and fucking feeding me sips of wine?

Oh yeah.  He totally is.

The way he’s looking at me…he looks like a man who could never be so crass as to lick his lips, but…oh my god, he licks his lips as he surveys me, standing there in my white vest and blue knickers.  I felt a wave of heat travel my body in the wake of his gaze.

Some autonomous instinct that I didn’t know I had turned itself on, and I sank to my knees at his feet.  His free hand jumped to my elbow, steadying me, his eyes holding me as I went down.  Oh, yes…

Tom’s hand came to my cheek and stroked it as his other brought the wine glass to his own lips while he looked down into my upturned face.  I watched his adam’s apple move along the column of his neck as he swallowed the wine.  He set the glass down with a small click on the table in my entryway, reached down and grasped my upper arms in a firm, commanding grip, drawing me to a stand.  His foot pushed the door shut.

All this time his gaze had never once left mine, and the only word he’d uttered had been my name.  Fuck. His hand dropped to the hem of my shirt, skimming the skin of my belly at its edge. He drew my tank top off over my head, dropping it on the floor, and I stood still as his eyes perused my body, biting the inside of my lip, wanting so much to cover myself, shield myself from his predatory gaze, a rabbit hiding from the fox, but knowing that doing so, in this mood, would surely provoke him.  I’m fairly certain that I don’t want to know what would happen next.

This is the only time that Tom has seriously reminded me of James.  I feel an almost dangerous vibe rolling off him, like a heavy cologne…

He reaches down and hooks his fingers into the waistband of my knickers, stripping them down my legs, kneeling and holding my hand as I stepped out of them, standing and dropping them on top of my vest on the floor.  Still he doesn’t speak.

In one smooth move, Tom lifts me into his arms, one arm behind my knees, the other holding me to his chest.  He moves deliberately toward my bedroom, his dress shoes rapping firmly in the nighttime silence against the hardwood floor in a measured cadence.  Arriving at my bedroom door, he waits for me to reach out and turn the knob, letting him into my bedroom.

I don’t hesitate.  I’ve never seen this mood on Tom before, but I know what a smart woman does when her Dom looks like this.  She does anything he damn well wants, and without questioning him.

Tom pushes the bedroom door open with a foot, walking me to the bed where he carefully sets me on my knees at the edge, facing the headboard.  Drawing one of my hands behind my back, he silently pulls his undone tie from his collar, wrapping it around my wrist.  I glance over my shoulder to watch.

“Eyes forward, Ellie. You will keep still.  And stay quiet,” he warns me.  I turned my head to face the headboard, staring blankly at the carved vines there, all my other senses acutely focused on Tom and what he’s doing to me.  The hair on the back of my neck is standing up. I could hear his measured breathing in my ear, feel the soft brush of his jacket against my shoulder as he reaches around my body for my other wrist and secures it behind my back, tying off the knot in his tie.  He gives my wrists a quick tug downward, and my back arches helplessly to keep my balance, gasping a little at the sudden movement.

Tom stands back and, in my peripheral vision, I watch him remove his tuxedo jacket, laying it in front of me on of the bed.  He proceeds to unclasp the citrine and onyx cuff links that I’d given him for his birthday from his sleeves, laying them carefully on the bedside table, and rolling the french cuffs up each forearm in precise movements.  Oh god.  I could feel his eyes on me every moment.  I hear him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.  I couldn’t help but mimic his breath.

His hand moves to my hair at the back, gathering a fistful of my curls and pulling firmly, tipping my head back to look into my face.  His blue gaze meets mine, eyes diving down into my soul.  I look back, seeking some clue about his mindset, his mood, his intentions.  Despite his calm, somewhat austere demeanor, there’s something at the back of his eyes, some need.   
   
Then he’s kissing me, his lips hard on my mouth, tongue driving between my lips to meet mine, taking possession of my mouth.  The hand in my hair is holding me, keeping me bowed back and slightly off balance, depending on his strength to keep me steady. The position forces me to spread my knees more.

My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest, pounding, when he pulls his head up and looks into my face again, his tongue skating over his lower lip, as if he’s licking sugar off of it.  Yeah, I know that look.  I tip my chin down submissively at him, letting him know that I’ll give him whatever he needs.  His lips tighten, and his eyes narrow at me.  He doesn’t want me to give.  This, this is a man who is going to take what he wants, right here, right now.

My hair in his fist, he pulls my head further back, and begins to trail little biting licks down my neck as his other hand moves up one thigh, scraping his nails against me, the sensation just enough that I know he’s leaving pink trails on my flesh.  He cups my mound in his palm, briefly grinding over my clit, fuck, before continuing to run his nails up my body, over my navel and ribs, around my body, over my back and arse, claiming me.  His hand flexes in the flesh of my arse cheek, gripping firmly, posessively, before running around my waist to my chest.  His palm settles over my breast, feathering his fingers out over it, lightly tracing around and over, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

“You should have been there with me, Ellie.” he growled.  Oh.  This is not a happy Dom…  "I wanted you.“

I open my mouth to reply.  He gives my head a small shake, twisting his fingers further into my hair, and glares at me.  "Don’t even, my girl.  Not. one. word.  You’ve had every opportunity to talk to me about this for the last two weeks. You are going to learn the value of talking to me when given the opportunity. You chose not to talk, and I am not inclined to listen right now.  Be silent.”

Shit, shit, shit.  He’s angry at me for not going with him tonight.  And here I am, tied and utterly vulnerable, his hand fisted in my hair holding me still, no escape from his depredations.  I have a safe word, but even angry, this is Tom.  I know he won’t hurt me.  Not more than I deserve…

That hand began to pluck at my nipple, pinching and pulling until I gasped.  His mouth settled on my other nipple, suckling strongly, pulling it into his mouth and scraping his teeth along the turgid tip, as he mimicked the motion with his thumbnail on its twin.  Oh, fuck!  I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning.

His mouth moves over the slope of my breast, finds the soft spot that he wants, and sucks hard, pulling my skin into his mouth, intent on leaving a mark, I know.  His hand leaves my breast and moves to brush his fingers through the hair over my mound, tickling and tugging.  A long finger skims my labia several times before insinuating itself between them, finding my clit and giving it a light caress.

He has me off balance in more than a physical way.  His touch has moved from nearly rough and demanding, to teasing, and back again.

He dips his finger into me, just to the first knuckle, swirling, gathering some of my moisture, sliding through my folds to my clit, circling around it and back to my entrance, circling around and back in a slow torturous figure eight.  And again.  Oh hell.

 

“I wanted to show you this part of my life, to share it with you.  I wanted you with me,” he said in a low voice against my ear. Is that sorrow?  He gives me no time to figure it out.

Two large fingers rudely invade my core, driving a soft grunt out of me, but then begin a gentle, almost lazy rhythm, rubbing across that spot inside me almost tenderly.  My breath catches as I clamp involuntarily down on his fingers.  A moan escapes me even as I strive to be quiet as he has demanded.

Those delicious fingers are swiftly removed, and two tremendous swats are delivered to my arse, driving a cry out of me.

“You.  Will.  Be.  Silent.”  I’ve never heard him sound menacing before… I pull my lips between my teeth in an effort to obey him.  Please… I would whimper if I were allowed.

His hand trails up from my bottom, leaving a track of cooling wet along the small of my back.  My moisture.  Fuck.  His hand continues up my back, across my shoulders,   
around my front, up my throat to my mouth.  He dips his fingers into my mouth, pulling at my lower lip, running his fingertips across the edge of my lower teeth, and inserting them into my mouth.

My lips close around his fingers and my tongue tastes the maurading fingers, recognizing my own essential flavor. Oh, and his.  He pulls his fingers free and runs them slowly down my chin, throat, chest, belly, to twist in my pubic curls, tugging.  My hips move forward with his pull, having no choice but to follow.

“Did you think about anything but your fears?” he whispers into the skin of my neck.  "Did you remember my commitment to keep you safe?“

No. No, all I thought of was keeping Tom safe.  Safe from the fallout of my past.  Never.  Never tell…  A sob wells in my throat, choking me.  It hurts.

His open mouth traces down my neck from my ear, his tongue licking out, tasting me, teasing me.

"Did you once think of letting your fear go and trusting me?  About pleasing me?”  His voice rumbles into my conscience, dragging me down.

Oh god, this is torture.  He doesn’t understand, and the only way he will is if I tell him.  I can’t.  He’ll hate me, as he should.  The sob escapes me.  I want so badly to comfort him, assure him.  I dangle over the precipice of the truth, knowing that to give him what he asks is to destroy us both.

Tom’s fingers move with purpose now, driving into me, his thumb skating over my clit with every thrust, his own breath grunting out with mine, as if he feels the thrust of his fingers in his own body.  Oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck…

Tom’s teeth close over the tender spot under my ear, and my hips thrust against his fingers, a scream ripping from my throat as I come.  And come, his hand insisting that I find peak after peak, pushing me repeatedly over, driving me higher.

At last he relents, withdrawing his fingers, cupping my mound softly as I come down with a last sob, my sex throbbing endlessly.  He holds my body steady on my knees, holding me until I can support myself.

“It’s time you put away your insecurities and trust me, darling girl,” he says quietly into my ear. “I will always take care of you, Ellie… Think about that the next time you’re afraid to try something that I ask of you.”

He kisses me deeply, tenderly.  Ending the kiss and pulling back a few scant centimetres, he says,  "You will talk to me…  Use your words, Ellie.“

He pulls his tie from my wrists and drops it on the bed next to my knee, turning and walking from my room, his even, unhurried footsteps audible as he traverses my hardwood floors.  I hear my front door open and close.  Silence can be deafening…

 


	23. Chapter 23

With the sound of my front door closing behind him, my body collapsed over itself, my arms wrapped around myself and my face in the bed as I cried out into the mattress, in anger and grief.  

I rolled onto my side, staring at the flowers and vines curling over my headboard.  I don’t know how long I lay there, my mind circling around and around, but the dawn had begun peeking around my curtains, sending a golden ray against the far wall, when I dragged myself out of bed and trudged into the bath.

I showered and dried myself, tying my hair back away from my face haphazardly.  I didn’t bother with makeup.  I glanced in the mirror uninterestedly before turning away.  Zombie city.  Ugh. 

Tossing my towel toward the hamper, I walked back to my bedroom, and stopped abruptly at the sight of Tom’s tuxedo jacket and his crumpled tie still lying on my bed.  I’m sure the silk must be ruined.  I stepped into my closet for a coat hanger, tossing my blue wool winter coat on the floor.  I went and stood silently staring down at Tom’s belongings.

I picked up his jacket and his scent drifted from it, settling around me, filling my head, lulling me like the witches’ poppies in the Wizard of Oz.  I breathed him deep into my lungs, trying to memorize his unique smell.  There’s a tang, a citrusy, pine-like aroma, due no doubt to his cologne.  And then there’s the mesmerizing scent of him woven into his jacket, male and clean.

Enough mooning over his jacket like a love sick cow!  It won’t do.  I am not that girl.  I hung his jacket from the hanger and draped his tie around it’s collar.  I scooped up the cufflinks I’d given him, fingering them, wishing I could cast some kind of blessing on them before dropping them into a pocket.  I hung the lot on the back of the closet door and dressed myself in whatever came to hand, my ratty old jeans and an old oversized Cure concert tee.

Somehow I managed to get myself and his tuxedo jacket to his place while I obsessively went over all the reasons for being done.  I must have written and discarded a dozen notes, before sticking with the simplest and most unequivocal note to slip into his jacket pocket.

'I’m sorry. Red. -Ellie'

After thinking all night about this, I knew that I’d never be able to look him in the face and do what I needed to do, so I punked out.  Way out.  I already feel guilty.  Guilty-er.  I know it’s wrong, but I can’t think of anything to do that would be less awful.

I stood in front of Tom’s door, holding his beautiful jacket, remembering how he’d looked on my stoop last night, the streetlamps making a halo of gold glints in his hair, that dangerous look in his eyes.  Pressing my lips together, I forced myself to hang the jacket on his doorknob.  I took a moment, just one, my finger drifting over the shoulder, smoothing his lapel, before turning to leave, my eyes tearing.

I ran straight into a wall.  Shit!  He’s there.  Right there in front of me, wearing his running clothes, earbuds dangling around his neck, perspiration dampening his hair and the neck of his tee, pooled in the notch of his collarbones.  How the hell does he do that?  Just appear out of freaking nowhere??

Tom grasped my arms to steady me as I bounced off him, and looked at me searchingly before his lips tightened.  Taking my elbow in his firm grip, he pushed his key into the lock and opened his door.  I tried to step away.   
   
"No, Tom.  I can’t…“  He simply ignored that and crowded me through the doorway with his body, turning back to lift his jacket inside and shut the door.  He dropped the jacket with which I’d taken so much care carelessly on the floor, and regarded me silently.  I can’t help darting a look at the door, wishing desperately not to be here at this moment.

Tom followed the direction of my glance and narrowed his eyes.  He looked so grim.  So forbidding.  Fuck.

Without a word he pulled me around by the elbow he hadn’t let go of, and started off for the lounge.  

"Tom.” I plead.

“Ellie.” he answers, no give in his voice.

Tom looked into my face as he pulled me to his sofa and tugged me down next to him, angling his body to face mine, taking a deep breath.

"You’re not a coward, Ellie, and I’m not letting you start now… I won’t let you leave without talking to me.  You owe me that.  You owe yourself that,” he said quietly.  "Whatever else transpires here today, darling, I mean to see that you never look back and think that you took the cowards’ way out.“

People let me down all the time.  Why shouldn’t I?

"Ellie, I’m not going to judge you by whatever you’re holding so tightly to.”  He reached under my chin and pulled my head up, gazing steadily into my eyes. His Henry V is hanging out all over the place.  How do I cope with that, for fucks’ sake?

“Sweetheart, I don’t give one single damn about whatever you’re hiding.  I do care very much that it’s plainly hurting you.”  He shook my elbow lightly.  “You needn’t carry it around all by yourself, you know.  The past is past, darling, and there is nothing to be gained by punishing yourself, for what can’t be changed.  We learn from it and move on.  This is the life you have.  Live it!”

I could feel my breath congeal in my lungs.  I sat up, feeling a little lightheaded, and put my hand on his chest to steady myself.  God, this is so fucking difficult.  If I could just get some goddamned air… Tom watches me.

“Ellie, if it’s something that can be fixed, we’ll fix it.  If it’s something from the past, done is done.  In any case it’s past time you stopped tormenting yourself with it!  Go on…spit it out, Ellie.”  He squeezed my hand and I stood abruptly, pacing away from him.  My arms wrapped around myself, clutching my biceps.  I looked around at Tom, sitting so calmly and steadily, waiting for me, expecting me to speak.  I take a deep breath and sigh it out.

I feel my hands curl, almost as if preparing for a fight, and consciously relax them. 

"I really… I don’t think I can… I don’t want to leave.  But you should.”  I gestured outside.  “You should walk me right to your door and put me on the other side of it, without delay.“

I tried to maintain eye contact with him, but in the end I couldn’t, and ended staring at his mouth, watching his expressions change.  His mouth isn’t such a striking thing really, after all, slim lips that often look dry.  But then that mouth moves, conveying every emotion, every thought.  His mouth is so expressive, I think I could have an entire coherent conversation with just its subtle movements, the tick of his jaw.  Shit.

"Tom, I…please…?  I looked up at him pleadingly, willing him to tell me how.  I’ve never spoken about this, not once, and I have no idea how to start, what to say.  It doesn’t escape my notice that the person I most want to turn to for advice, is the one person I can’t ask.

"Ellie.” He looked into my face implacably, watching me twist my fingers together in my anxiety.  "Elena,“ his voice sharpened, his look intent.  "Tell me.  Whatever it is, we will deal.  Together, Elena.”  He’s so sincere. So strong.  So confident.  He so doesn’t understand yet.

I take a deep breath. He has demanded that I answer him, demanded that I be truthful with him.  Trust him.  Can I simply…obey?  Maybe there’s a tiny chance that I’m not throwing every piece of my life away by telling him.  Maybe…

“When…when I was living at Aunt Patricia’s, six months or so before I went to Uni,”  I said, swallowing dryly.  I heard Tom give a small grunt of air, as if letting out a breath that he’d been holding, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“I… Michael, my youngest cousin…” I flick a glance up at him.  He nodded to show that he remembers that I’d refused to talk about Michael that time we’d spoken of my mum’s death, and Aunt Patricia’s family.  My eyes went back to my twisting fingers.

“Michael.  He…”  My throat dries, but I force the words out.  "Michael came to my room one day when the rest of the family were out at a football match.  Michael had begged off, saying he didn’t feel well.  And I, well, I was never invited to those family things, anyway…“

I thought about the things I’d spent years pushing away, and got lost in those memories, the words just sort of poured out.  

"He had been harassing me for weeks,” I told the carpet, “taunting me about how boyish I looked, skinny, flat chested, short hair, dressed in the baggy jeans and tee shirts my Aunt dressed me in.

I remember every detail of that day, the sun pouring in my window, the blue sky lifting above the verdant back garden…

“What do you want, Michael?” I’d snapped.  

He’d turned and pushed my bedroom door closed behind himself very deliberately.

“Hello, little boy.” he’d sneered at me, his eyes had flicked up and down me dismissively.

I’d huffed at him.  "Ok, Michael, I get it.  I’m not girl enough to meet your standards.  Are we done yet?“  I think I’d seriously expected him to turn around and leave me the fuck alone.  But…

"No, little boy, I don’t think we are…”  The menace in his voice finally broke through to me.  Suddenly I was afraid of Michael.  Very afraid.  I had frozen like a mouse, knowing that if I twitched a muscle, made a sound, my doom would fall on me.  But freezing didn’t stop what came next.  I feel nauseated, reliving this now.

“Since you insist on looking and dressing like a little boy, perhaps you’d like me to treat you like a boy…”  He’d reached a hand out and seized my arm, as I stood frozen, and he’d yanked me to him, sneering at me.

He’d grabbed a handful of my hair at the top, I can still feel his fingers gripping there, the sides and back were too short to grasp.  He’d yanked at the button of my jeans painfully, finally managing to wrench it open, the waist band digging into my hips as he tore at them.

“No, Michael, no!  Get off!  Please! God please no Michael no no no please no!”  A litany of pleading fell from me.  I was in some kind of shock, I think. I futilely pushed my hands against him, but it was useless.  He was a year younger than I, but he towered over me and outweighed me by about 50 or 60 pounds.  He was so fucking strong!  
Yanking my jeans off, he’d spun me around and bent me over the foot board of my bed…

Tears break through my narrative, and Tom reaches for me.  I threw my hands up.  "Don’t!  Don’t, I can’t if you touch me!  I have to…you wanted to know!“

Tom’s hands fell to the tops of his thighs, lying there in fists.  He waited, immobile, rigid, his breathing harsh.  I pulled in a breath.  I’m actually grateful that he’d interrupted me, interrupted the memories.  I need to tell this with more dispassion if I’m ever going to get through it.

"He… raped me.   Anally,” I said hoarsely.  "He spit on me and wiped it on himself for lube.  It was the most unimaginable…oh god… I couldn’t even scream.”  My body clenches up now, just the memories ripping pain through me.  "I…“ I swallowed against the lump in my throat, "I thought I’d die from the pain of it.”

Tears are rolling down my face, I can’t stop the avalanche.  I can’t stop. I’m not done yet.

“That wasn’t the only time…”  I whispered.  "Eight times over the next six months…“  My voice is a thread.

I’m yanked off knees that I hadn’t realized I’d fallen to.  Tom pulls me to his lap, his grip around me merciless.  I struggle feebly.  "Don’t touch me…you can’t.  You won’t…”

“Elena!”  His voice rapped out into my ear.  "Be still this instant!“  I froze.  I stopped breathing, oh, but my heart kept pounding out of my chest.

"Elena, Ellie.  I need to…I need to hold you.”  His voice was strangled, raw, almost pleading.  "I need to hold you while you tell me these…these terrible things.  Please, baby.  Please let me hold you.“  His face is buried in my hair.  I can almost feel his heart thundering as hard as mine.

I look blankly away across the room, and narrate the worst part as dispassionately as I can.

"I’d said I would tell his mother and he laughed.  ‘Who is she going to believe, do you think little boy?’

I knew.  There was no question.  No point.  If I told her, she would not only not believe me, but she’d do her best to make me miserable for daring to accuse her precious boy.”  I choked on a bitter laugh.  "More miserable.  So I…endured.  The only one of them who noticed, who showed any concern for me, was Wills.  I don’t think he had any clue about the origins of my unhappiness, but he made me sign up for my first martial arts class.  He introduced me to Sensei.  So I learned to defend myself.  But I was never able to defend myself from Michael… I just… I didn’t have the courage.“  

I shook my head, berating myself for my own cowardice.  If I had defended myself then, my future might have been very different.  Not to mention Michael’s.

"I finally went off to Uni.  And I was free.  Free of Michael, free of the oppression of living on my Aunts’ charity.”  I feel a smile try to creep through at the thought of school.   
   
“God, I’d loved school!  It was wonderful.  So much to see and do and learn!  It was brilliant!  I’d never been so happy since before Mum died…About two months into my first term I came out of my flat on the way to the grocery, and found Michael…”  I choked, “…standing on the step.”

Tom’s arms tightened around me.  If they hadn’t I’d have flown apart into a million little pieces.  My voice will barely operate, but somehow I push the words out.

“I don’t know how he found me.  I never told any of them where I was living.  He’d leered at me, said he’d come to visit his favorite little boy for the weekend…  I tried to ignore him, to just walk away from him!  I did!  But he followed me.  He just wouldn’t go away…  My whole life stretched in front of me, of Michael showing up unannounced and doing…that to me, again and again.”

I feel once more that terrible black chasm opening at my feet, knowing that was my future.  Bile suddenly backed up in my throat.  I’m going to…I struggle desperately to get free of Tom.

“Please!  I need…I’m going to…!”  He must have understood because he lifts me up and strides into the loo, just in time for me to vomit into the sink.  He sets me on my feet and turns the tap on, rinsing my sick down the drain.  There isn’t much there, I haven’t eaten since last night.  Tom gathers my hair away from my face and is rubbing my back.  I can’t hear clearly what he’s saying over the sound of the rushing water, but I can hear him crooning to me.

Finally, finally, I stop heaving, collapsing against the vanity, sobbing weakly.  Oh god, let it be over…

Tom filled and handed me a glass of water, his hand resting on my back.  I rinsed and spat, swallowing several mouthfuls. It didn’t help.

“…He grabbed my arm as I walked past an alleyway, pulled me in, and… I finally defended myself.”  I whispered.

I look at Tom, into his eyes.  He has tears in his eyes too, I note distantly.

“I…killed him, Tom.  I beat him to death with these…”  I lifted my hands and stared at them.  I’d never understood why they looked so normal, after.  I closed my eyes and continued, whispering my confession.

“I could have stopped.  I stopped him, just as I stopped James.  But I, I couldn’t…I didn’t want to stop.  I wanted him out of my life for ever and ever, and I made that happen, with my own hands.  I left him, Tom, left his mother’s precious boy there, left him dead in that alley, and I’ve never told anyone since then.  Until you.”

I slumped to the floor and waited numbly.  Here it comes.  I wonder if my heart will really burst into pieces?

Tom thumps to his knees on the hard tile beside me.  I cringe away, waiting for the blow that I truly deserve.

Tom’s body covers mine, and his arms come around me, holding me tightly.  I know, I can feel his arms, but I am so far away, staring into that black future and the one I’ve created…

“Oh, Ellie.  Oh my poor darling girl…”

I’m dry-eyed at last, staring blankly, unseeing, unfeeling.  Oh.  For this one moment it doesn’t hurt.  I want to clutch that moment in my hands and never let it go.

I don’t know how long he crouched there, covering me with his body.  Shielding me, while I tried my hardest to disappear into that black hole, and pull it in after me.

I was vaguely aware of Tom lifting me and carrying me, laying me down on his bed, and stripping me as I lay limply.  He went around the bed, stripping, and got in beside me, arranging me against his body and holding me, pulling the blankets up over us, his chin finding the hollow of my neck, his breath fanning over my collarbones.

Holding me.


	24. Chapter 24

I woke to the rhythmic stroke of Tom’s hand smoothing over my hair and down my back in long, slow strokes.  I know I cried myself to sleep to that hypnotic rhythm.  I stiffened. recalling the scene from earlier.  Shit!

“Tom, I should go…”  I tried to sit up, but Tom’s arm tightened and immobilized me.

“No.”  

I pushed at his arm.  I might as well have been pushing at an iron bar.

“Tom…please listen to me.  You must know that you have to send me home and delete my phone number and texts?  You…really need to pretend that you’ve never met me or heard of me. Please, please think about this!  If I were ever arrested, if you were ever linked to me…it could destroy your career!”

Tom threw back his head and laughed.  I blanched.  He’s not taking me seriously?

I curled a hand in his hair.  "Tom!  Seriously!  You can’t just…”

He interrupted me.  “Of course I can!  Ellie,“ he smiled, "trust me to understand how my career works.  My god, I’m a ‘Movie Star’!”  He air quoted at me.  “Being involved with a scandal wouldn’t hurt my career!  On the contrary!  It could only make me more sought after.  Show business doesn’t care where the publicity comes from, they’d eat it up with a spoon!”  He sobered.  “Darling, the only person who would be affected if your little bit of vigilantism became known would be you.”

He must be mad.

“Darling Ellie…  Elena.  I will do anything, everything in my power to protect your secret, to protect you.“  He captured my chin and brought my face around, his blue eyes boring into my grey.

"If anyone finds out, it won’t be my doing, Ellie, I promise you.  And furthermore,” he instructed, “if you ever find yourself in police custody you will call me and I will make sure that you have the best legal representation money can buy.”  

I looked away.  Drag Tom into the maelstrom with me?  As if!

He shook my chin a little, dragging my eyes back to his, his arm tightening and pulling me closer to his body. “Do you understand me?  You will call me for help!”  

“Say it, Ellie.” He said warningly.

I looked into his eyes, gauging his seriousness.  Oh yeah.  As a heart attack.  I am already so far out on this limb…what the hell.  I took a deep breath, and it came scented with Tom.  Comfort.

“Alright Tom, I promise.”

Tom is watching me intently, a small crease between his eyebrows.  Then his expression clears.  He believes me.  I can see it.  He trusts me…  

Tom leans down a little and nuzzles his nose along my hairline, his own long in-drawn breath hissing along my skin.  His arms tightened around me and he sighed out his breath.

“Beautiful girl.”

That’s all he said.  I held very still, waiting.  Had he actually meant it when he said he had no intention of judging me??  I waited, and waited, until finally my muscles began to relax bit by bit.  Until my body believed that Tom wasn’t about to castigate me for my ugly tale.

A tear slid out of my eye.  Oh, god.  A swelling sense of pure gratitude welled up within me, of lightness and relief at not having the constant presence of that secret weight pressing down on me, even just momentarily.  I took a deep breath and Tom smiled warmly at me.  He leaned down kissed me gently, so sweetly, his hand moving to cup my cheek.  I nuzzled into his hand and brought my own up to cover his.  We both paused a moment, looking at each other before Tom’s mouth dipped to mine again.

In that moment I utterly surrendered to Tom, letting him all the way in.  At last I didn’t have to hold back, I didn’t have to protect myself, or tell myself I’m protecting him.  My life, my fate is in Tom’s hands, and…I am content that it be so.

I thought I’d feel ugly and dirty after telling him about my sordid mess, but instead I feel almost… clean, and so lightened I could float, if it weren’t for Tom’s body tethering me to earth.  I have handed my heaviest burden off to Tom, and he just… accepted it.  And now it feels like I can trust him decide what to do with it.  I can trust him.  I don’t know what will happen later, but for now Tom will carry it, and me, safely.  And at the moment, that’s enough.

Tom must have felt the surrender in my body as he shifted over me, his face so tender, his eyes more soft green than blue as he looked into mine.

“Beautiful girl,” he said again, and dipped his head to nibble and lick his way down my neck.  I squirmed a little under him, making a small noise, surprised that I still have a libido.  His hand went to my hip, stilling me, and I was content to be still for him.

He slipped his hand under my bottom, and holding me against him, rolled us so that I was atop him.  He pushed against my shoulders, shifting me to sit upright on his hips, looking down at him.  His fingers reached up and traced the contours of my face and over my lips.

“My beautiful girl,” he said as he watched the path of his hands on my skin. His fingers drifted over my body, touching on the little freckles scattered over my chest, fingering the small scar on my ribs.  He looked up questioningly, his eyebrows raised.

“Fell off my bike when I was nine.”  I shrugged at his concern.  He nodded and pulled me forward by my hips, tilting my body until I had to reach for the headboard above us to catch my balance.  He lifted his head and softly kissed the small scar, as if he were kissing away the hurt and soothing my nine year old self.  Something no one had bothered to do at the time.

Running his hands up my torso, he pushed me upright again, and ran his fingertips over me.  He reached both hands up, and starting at that sweet sensitive place behind my ears, stroked the backs of his fingers down my neck and across my collarbones to my shoulders, while I watched him.  He pressed his palms into the roundness of my shoulders and then ran his hands slowly down my arms all the way to my fingers.  

Tom’s gaze moved back and forth from my face to his hands, his eyes settling on our hands, watching as his long fingers played with and stroked along my own fingers, noting with an admonishing tsk that, while I had stopped biting my nails down to the quick, I was still clearly chewing on one thumbnail.  I didn’t tell him that I had chewed it off just last night.  He gently lifted both our hands, twining our fingers together before moving to enclose my hands, his big thumbs caressing each of my palms.

He drew our joined hands toward his face, and gazing into my eyes, softly kissed my knuckles.  The look in his eyes could not have said more clearly; I see you.  I know you. It’s all good.

For the first time ever I felt no need to shy away in shame or anxiety.  I could… I can let him look at me, see all of me.  I have nothing left to hide, or to hide behind.  I have given Tom everything there is, and I can see his understanding of that bloom.

His eyes seem to glow from within for a moment, and suddenly there’s a definite sheen of moisture in his eyes as he looks at me.  It dawns on me that I have given him something that he treasures, will treasure.  I don’t, I really don’t see how telling him the most awful things about myself have transubstantiated into a precious gift, but somehow… it has.

All the things he has done for me, all the caring he has showered on me, and in return I’ve paid for those things with the ugliest thing about me.  I don’t understand how he can cherish the most hated part of me…  

I smiled back at him through my own suddenly full eyes, pulling a hand away, swiping at my tears and smearing them over my face as I laugh a little at the absurdity.

Tom set my hands on his chest and reached up to my breasts, his palms brushing over my nipples, setting up a sparkling tingle as my breath caught and my head fell back on my neck of its own accord, my back helplessly arching my breasts into his touch.

His hands closed around me and he began to knead my breasts rhythmically.  I managed to pull my head up and looked down into half-lidded eyes.  He looked like a big cat on the verge of breaking out in a growly purr.

His fingers played over my nipples and began to roll them, his thumbs brushing back and forth over my increasingly hard, sensitized tips.  A small whining sound escaped me.  
“Shhh, darling,” he whispered, “let me touch you…”

One hand slipped down my side to my hip and slid me back until I could feel the head of his erection nudging at me.  His hands lifted me slightly to allow him to slide through my folds.  Tom’s hand on my hip rocked me over him, his groan rumbling through my body like warning thunder.

My pussy clenched at the sound, and I know Tom could feel the flex of my pelvic muscles over the base of his cock.  I heard his breath catch, and he stilled, grinding me down on his cock, groaning again.

Suddenly he was lifting me and notching his cock at my entrance, pulling me swiftly down, sheathing himself fully in me.

Stars burst behind my eyelids as I cried out.  He filled me and I felt myself clench around him, exploding into a sudden orgasm.  Tom held me as I rode out the ripples, until I collapsed limply against his chest.

“Oh yes, Ellie, my very good, beautiful girl.” He whispered, his arms wrapped around my body, clasping me tightly against him as he began to thrust up powerfully into me.  He was driving little moaning gasps of air out of me with each thrust, his tightly banded arms pushing my body down on him as he thrust upwards, his face buried in my neck.  Oh god.  My clit is dragging against his pubic bone, and oh god, I’m going to come again.

“That’s right, my beautiful girl, come with me,” he grunted, “ come again for me, let me feel you…”  Tom’s feet moved up under him and his entire pelvis was off the bed as he strained to push himself as far inside me as he could go.  Seconds later we both came in wordless shouts, his a bellow, mine a wailing cry, his hips pulsing in time with his cock…

At last he collapsed gasping back onto the bed, still clutching me to him.  Every bit of energy expended, both of us were utterly limp.  Except for the strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me from falling off him.  Keeping me from falling, full stop.

Tom held me there while we caught our breaths and then let go with one arm to pull my chin up and smile at me.  He kissed me and then rolled us onto our sides, facing each other.  He scooted down the bed, putting our heads on the same level, resting his hand on my hip, fingers making little swirling patterns there.

We stared into each other’s eyes for long moments before he cupped my cheek and leaned up to plant a kiss on my forehead.  He whispered into my skin.  "We need to talk…but later.  Come shower with me.“

It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t an order either.  It was an invitation.  An expectation.  I nodded.

Tom sat up and climbed over me, pulling me up with him, and leading me by the hand into his bath.  He reached into the shower enclosure, never letting go of my hand, turning the water on and adjusting the temperature.  Then he turned and settled himself against the vanity, pulling me between his legs.

"We’ll let that warm up a bit…come here.”  He set his hands around my ribs and pulled me close, dipping his head to kiss me.  I slid my hands up his chest to the back of his head, into his hair, pulling his mouth down on mine as I stood on my toes, pressing up, in a simple expression of my gratitude for him.

“Thank you, love.” He said to me.  I’m not sure for what, exactly, but ok.

Tom washed me gently in the shower.  Though it was a far more sensuous experience this time than the first time he’d washed me, and it wasn’t all one sided this time either, it was just as caring as the first time.  Tom cares for me.  I’ve always known he cared, though I could never understand why.  I still don’t know why, but at least now I know that he understands exactly what, who he’s caring for.  And he cares anyway…

We dried each other carefully and Tom dressed me in one of his tee shirts, pulling on his jeans before walking us downstairs, his arm around me, to the morgue.  Kitchen. Whatever.  

He guided me to sit on a stool at the island and made us both tea.  Tom has been uncharacteristically quiet, and I’m beginning to get nervous.  Again.  At last I couldn’t stand it, and I broke the silence.

“Well,” I laughed into my teacup a little bitterly, “now you know why they warned you against curiosity, Mr. Cat.  Bet you didn’t expect all that…”  I waved a hand vaguely at my earlier confession.

Tom reached for my waist and slid me from my stool onto his, pulling me to sit on his knee.

“True, I wasn’t expecting that, precisely, but darling, you continually amaze me.  I can’t imagine how you lived with all that in your head for so long without bursting…  You’re an incredibly strong woman, you know.”  He kissed my neck.

“All along I’ve known that you were hiding something, that you were afraid of, or ashamed of.”  He leaned his forehead against mine for a moment, drew in a breath.  
“I owe you an apology, beautiful girl.”  I shook my head to negate that.  He hadn’t done anything wrong.  It was all me.

Tom placed his fingers over my lips, shushing me to let him finish.  I couldn’t help kissing them, but then I pressed my lips together and nodded to signify that I wouldn’t interrupt him.

“Oh yes, darling.  It never occurred to me that you had a real life or death reason to keep me out.  One that could affect your entire future, change it irrevocably if your secret got out.”

Both Tom’s hands moved to my face, his fingers feathering over my cheeks, and his thumbs stroking my jawline.  He pulled my head down to his chest and rested his cheek on the top of my head.

“Thank you , Ellie.  Thank you for your trust.  I know how hard this is for you…”

I blinked at him, nonplussed.  "Really?  That’s all you have to say about it?“ I asked incredulously.

He took a moment to consider as he sipped coolly at his tea.  "Yes.  That’s pretty much it.”

I folded my arms and stared at him.  Who is this man?  I can’t have built this thing all up in my head just for him to shrug it off so nonchalantly.  Can I?

“So I tell you that I killed a man, and that doesn’t worry you?!”

“No, darling, it doesn’t worry me at all,” he said sharply, “that a vicious boy who was victimizing you, and who knows how many other women in his future, is dead.  Rabid dogs should be put down!  What does worry me is that no one protected you from him to begin with!”  Tom’s jaw muscle is jumping now, and his mouth is doing that thing.  He really is more incensed that no one had protected me, than he is that I fucking killed Michael!

I leaned my forehead against his and sighed.

"Honest to god, Thomas, I have no idea which one of us is more fucked up.  But…thank you.”  I laid my hand on his cheek and he turned his head to press a kiss into my palm.  After a moment, he sat back.

“So this is where your hard limit about anal comes from…  I’m sorry, darling.  He took all kinds of things from you, didn’t he?”

I nodded.  Security, self respect…and then James to follow up the lessons.  Of course, I did that to myself…  I sighed.

“Well, I won’t press you.  It’s something that you should enjoy…” he paused while I shivered, tightening his grip, “but I understand now that it’s a trigger for you.  But if you ever need to explore, I’m here, love.”  Tom hugged me and kissed my temple.  He paused and his brow wrinkled.

“I’m not quite sure why this was a problem that kept you from being my date at the event last night, though.”  He looked at me expectantly.

I squirmed uncomfortably on his lap.  "Yeah, well, that’s two things, really.“  His brow contracted in puzzlement.  

"All that very public Red Carpet chaos really does ring all my social anxiety bells and buzzers.  But also… I’m afraid that my aunt would see me with you, and work out how to track me down.  I can’t… I don’t ever want to see that woman again.”  I added in a smaller, shamed voice, “…I just… I can’t face her after what I’ve done.  Michael was awful. Loathsome.  But his mother loved him…”

“Ah, I see." he paused to think.  "Well, I think we can take steps to see that she doesn’t find you, even if she does recognise you on my arm.  Will you let me call my security firm and get them to clean up your public information so that you can’t be found easily?  That might head off the tabloid vultures, as well as your Aunt Vulture, before they get wind of you.”  He squeezed me again.

I giggled at his name for Aunt Patricia.  He’d got her nailed pretty well.

“Darling, I’m sorry that my notoriety is affecting you.  It’s part of what I had to accept once I started getting more roles.”  He shrugged.  "I put up with the invasion of my privacy, but I hate  that yours will be compromised because of me.  I’m sorry…“

"Stop, Tom.”  I laid my fingers over his lips.  "It is what it is.  I’m glad that you want to…  Thank you for wanting to protect me.   Anyway, yes please.  Will you see what can be done to keep my anonymity?“

"Of course.  I’ll talk to them later today.”

He sat back and briskly said, “Now.”  I looked back at him warily, recognizing his change of demeanor.  Oh god, what next?  A sly little smile crept onto his face, and he leaned back to look me in the eye.  There’s mischief there, oh yes.

“And what lesson did we learn today, Miss Mackenzie?”  He waited expectantly, brows raised.

I rolled my eyes and huffed.  Then I recited in a sing-song voice.

“Use your words, Ellie.”

“Head of the class, baby.”  He nuzzled into my hair.

“So,” I asked, trailing a finger up his chest, “does this mean I can call you ‘Professor’?”

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a little fluff...  
> This is not the end, I promise, but I have some revisions that I want to do on the next bit, so don't freak out if there's a gap in posting.

“Ellie?  Wake up, darling.”

A hand smoothed over my hair, pushing it back from my face as I blinked my eyes open. There’s a low light coming from the door of the en suite, but otherwise the room is dark.  Tom is sitting on the edge of my bed, turned toward me, one foot on the floor, the other knee resting on the bed at my hip.

He’s dressed in his old blue-grey nearly sheer tee and black jeans.  Why is he dressed, I wondered blearily.

“Good morning, beautiful girl.”  Tom said tenderly in the early morning quiet.  I blinked sleepily at him as a smile crept across my face.  I surely like his new endearment.  I could get used to it, I thought with a little giggle.

“Have I told you how happy I am to have you in my bed?” Tom asked, brushing more hair back from my face.

“Well, no, but I’m fairly certain you demonstrated last night.”  I mustered a slightly saucy grin. “And technically, it’s my bed.  Why are you dressed?” I groaned. “What time is it?”    
I yawned, and stretched.  Tom tweaked the sheet off my body and watched appreciatively, running a hand down my torso as I flexed.  He leaned in and gave me a slow morning kiss.  Mmmm…

Pulling out of the kiss, Tom regarded me a moment.  I could see his pupils wide in the dim light, rendering his eyes almost black.  He climbed over me and lay on his back, rolling me onto his chest. I whined a little at being moved around at his whim.  Not to mention it’s still freaking dark.

“Sit up, Ellie and put your hands on the headboard.”  Damn, he wants me to move…

Ok, what the hell, right? I looked at my body stretched out on his, and sat up, straddling his belly, my knees folded to either side of him and gauged the distance to the headboard.  It’s too far away for me to reach from here.  I glanced down at Tom’s face, his eyebrow raised as he waited, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth, for me to work out how to comply with his instruction.  I yawned as I scooted a few centimeters up his chest and reached for the headboard, stretching out as far as I could. 

“Perfect.” Tom whispered.  My tits are dangling obscenely over his face.  My body was stretched so taut that I wasn’t able to move more than a centimeter in any direction without letting go.

“Don’t let go, Ellie.” He commanded as he reached both hands up to grasp my breasts, kneading and caressing and teasing them.  Damn, that’s…  I threw my head back and pressed into his hands as much as I could.

Tom lifted his head and took one nipple into his mouth, tonguing and tormenting it into a hard bud.  Then he nipped it sharply, startling a cry out of me before laving the sting away.  He paused, watching my reaction to his bite.

I squirmed as much as I was able, stretched as I was.  "Tom…please?“

"Please, what, Ellie?” he asked.

“Please more?” I groaned, “Please do that again?”  

“It’s alright?  Not too much?”

“God, no!” I tipped my head down between my arms to see him.  "I’m pretty sure I can trust you not to bite it off…“

"Only ‘pretty sure’?”  He leaned back so he could see my face more clearly in the low light.

“I stand corrected,” I grinned at him. “If nothing else, I’m 100% certain that you prefer my nipples attached to me.”

“Good point, if somewhat gruesome.  Now, where was I?” he asked rhetorically, as he returned to tormenting my breasts, nipping and sucking all around my aureola, pinching and tugging my nipples.  It took next to no time to bring me to a fever pitch, god, desperately cursing Tom for not letting me move my hands. I writhed, knowing I was going to leave a wet spot on his tee shirt.

Abruptly Tom stopped torturing my tits, grasping my hips and pulling them forward to bury his face in my pussy, licking back to front.  I nearly screamed when his lips attached to my clit and sucked strongly.  I’m never completely comfortable with this position, certain somewhere in the back of my head that I’ll lose control and suffocate him.    
But Tom had made sure that my control was already gone, his hands controlling my hips’ movements.  There’s nothing I can do from this position that Tom doesn’t guide.  He pulled me down firmly onto his mouth.  I ground down on his chin, his stubble deliciously scraping at delicate tissue, as he drove me to a screaming climax.

Tom held my hips, gently soothing me back to earth with his tongue, before lifting me and laying me next to him, his arms around me while I still throbbed out the last sensations.  At last I lay limp, just about three seconds from falling back asleep.

“Come on darling, let’s get you up.”  I groaned, as he rolled out of bed.

Tom slid his arms under my shoulders and knees, and stood easily with me in his arms.  I yelped in surprise.  I clutched around his neck, almost trying to hitch some of my weight out of his arms, when I realised how futile that was, since I was simply transferring my weight from his arms to his neck.

Well, shit.  He did it again.  How does he just …yank my insecurities out from under me, and insert himself as my support?  I mean, he does this kind of thing so effortlessly.  
Tom carried me into the bath and let me down on the mat in front of the mirror, kissing my temple.

“Five minutes, darling, then I’m coming back to help.  I’ve laid your clothes out on the chair beside the window”  He turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving me staring after him.  That sounded like a threat. I’m definitely taking him at his word!  I had a quick pee and a wash, brushed my teeth, yanked my hair up in a loose bun. Not fair! I grumbled to myself, dragging me out of a warm bed an hour before dawn and expecting me to function without caffeine!  I glanced at the clock on the wall. 

Four and a half minutes.  I hurried out to the bedroom and over to my reading chair.

I looked at the clothes he had laid out on the chair.  And that’s another thing!  Since when does Tom pick out my fucking clothes?!

I poked through his selections.  At least he’d picked out something comfortable, blue jeans and a white tank, and my blue long sleeved shirt to wear open over it.  It’s getting cooler now that September is sliding to an end.  There’s my sheer pink bra, the one he seems particularly fond of, with the tiny black bow over the front clasp.  

No knickers?   Well, ok then.  I shrugged.  If he doesn’t want me to wear knickers today, I don’t have a problem with that.  I’d much rather go commando under my jeans than under a skirt.  Still, it’s a bit of a surprise.  I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve?

I heard a noise and turned, my bra in hand, to find Tom lounging in the doorway.  He pushed off and sauntered over, taking my bra out of my hand, wrapping it around my back and slipping the straps up my arms.  He pulled the cups together and closed the clasp, reaching in  and lifting a breast, he settled it tenderly into the cup as he looked into my eyes.  

The look on his face…I don’t really know what that was, except some combination of 'I’m going to fuck you so hard’, and weirdly, 'Thank you for letting me touch your tits".  He repeated his motions, settling my other breast, pulling and tweaking the band and straps, making sure they don’t pinch me anywhere.  Then his mouth quirked up and he brushed his thumbs over my nipples through the sheer fabric of my bra.  My nipples instantly went hard, and Tom stepped back, admiring his work, his head tilted to the side.  

“Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you, Mr. Hiddleston?”  I asked with a yawn.

He flashed me a grin.  "You have no idea.“ with a little growl in his voice.  My attention was riveted when he picked up my jeans and knelt at my feet with them, looking up my body.

"Put your hands on my shoulders, Ellie.” He instructed.

When I’d done as he asked, he gently lifted my right foot and slid the leg of my jeans over it.  Setting my foot back on the floor, he reached for my other foot as I steadied myself against his shoulder.

Instead of working the other leg of my jeans over my foot, Tom ran his fingers slowly from my instep, up the inside of my leg to my pussy lips.  Once again his eyes captured mine, and then he leaned closer and licked a stripe from my pubic bone to my navel.

“Tom!”  I nearly convulsed, wobbling a bit, Tom’s hands instantly grasping my waist and steadying me.  He looked at me, his eyes dark.  "You smell delicious, darling.“  
Dipping his head and holding me steady, he insinuated his tongue between my lips, stroking slowly up to circle my clit.

I clutched both hands into his hair, just to soothe my desperate need to hold onto something, to stop the world spinning.

Pulling his tongue away from me, he placed a soft kiss on my mound, and then gently pulled my jeans up, zipping and buttoning.  He stood and smiled at me, a  mischievous little smirk.

"Damn, you’re evil!” I groaned.

He laughed, delighted.  "Thank you darling, I do try!  Now get that lovely arse moving.  Let’s go!“

"Um, Tom, you still haven’t said where we’re going…?” 

He gets me up at dark o'clock, gives me a mind blowing orgasm, without taking one for himself, mind you.  Then he dresses me, stirring me all up again, and now he’s dragging me out to god knows where?  What the hell?  It’s too early for me.  I’d much rather be up at the crack of noon.

“Come along, Ellie, it’s an adventure.”  He extended his hand and I hesitated only the briefest moment before putting my hand in his, I huffed a little sigh.  If he wants to be all mysterious, well, I’m awake enough to be curious.  He picked up a small rucksack, and threw it over one shoulder.  Tom pulled me along behind him, opening the front door and ushering me through it.

We both paused on the front step for a moment, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.  It’s still quite dark, only a hint of false dawn lightening the darkness.  After he locked the door behind us he draped an arm companionably over my shoulders, and guided us down to the pavement, turning left toward the park.  I reached my hand up to grasp his where it lay over my shoulder and we strolled into the park, his finger twined in mine protectively.

He steered us toward the hill, picking a place to sit at the top, facing east.  Pulling a blanket out of the rucksack, he spread it on the ground, helping me sit, and then pulled two tightly capped thermos cups out, handing me one.  We sat drinking tea and quiet.  He put his arm around me and tugged me close as we watched the sky lighten from deep blue to lavender, pink, yellow and orange.

By the time the sun was fully over the horizon Tom was reclining against the tree, with me draped over his lap, the most peaceful I’ve ever felt.  After our recent upheavals…  It hurts me to think that I fought him so hard to keep my secrets at the cost of…this.  This peace.  This quiet.  I feel blissfully content at this moment.

I turned and buried my face in his chest, breathing deeply, and pushing the immediate future out of my head.  I can have these few days and be grateful for them.  Tom has a booking out of town, he leaves tomorrow afternoon and will be back Friday night.  

I wound my arms around Tom’s torso, holding him, storing up for the three days to come.

Letting myself relax into his strong body, I enjoyed the feeling of safety, and of being cherished.  I’ve put him through so much in the last few weeks, it’s the eighth wonder of the world that he’s even still here.  I am not such an idiot, or so selfish that I can’t see when I’ve hurt him.  There’s a look in the back of his eye, sometimes, that speaks of some loneliness.

I’m ashamed to say that it took me so long to recognise that.  My head has been jammed so far up my own backside for so long with my 'heartbreak’, that I didn’t…never bothered to notice.

I played with a button on the front of his shirt a little nervously at my sudden thought.  Why not?

“Tom?  Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm? Of course, love.”

“Um…well, why didn’t…why haven’t you asked me to, um, call you 'Sir’?”

Tom chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling and worrying it a bit at the back of his head as he does when he’s giving something some thought.

“Aside from that was what you called your last ‘Dom’ and I don’t want to hear it?  It’s too…generic, I suppose.  I spend my life wearing someone else’s name.  I suppose I just want to be known by my own name to the people who matter to me.   Ellie…” he paused a long moment, tightening his arms around me, “you accept me for who I am, always have done.  Never, not once, have you ever made me feel that I had to hide myself from you, or be someone else…”

Tom ran his hand into the back of my hair, fisting it lightly and tugging my head back to claim a kiss, and then laying his cheek on the top of my head.  

“Thank you, love.” he whispered into my hair.

“You’re welcome…?” I had a stray revelation.  "You know, any number of times lately, I’ve nearly called you 'Thomas’.  But, well…“

"Darling, as long as it’s my name that you call, not Dick or Harry,” he flashed a grin, “or Loki, I’m good.

"You won’t think it’s…disrespectful?”  I asked cautiously.

He squeezed me again.  "No, Ellie. In fact, I’d be honoured that you felt comfortable enough to call me Thomas if the mood takes you.“  He leaned back a little to see my face with a wicked little grin.  

"Just don’t call me 'Professor’ in public, that always makes me hard.” he growled into my ear.

“Yes, Thomas.” I sassed.  He growled again.

“Come on, darling, let’s get you back to bed.”  He slid me off his lap onto the blanket and stood, packing away our empty go-cups and offering me a hand up. Picking up the blanket, he gave it a vigorous shake, flipping bits of grass and leaf onto the breeze that sprang up with the sun.  

He stepped up to me and wrapped the blanket around me, bending to ensure that it wouldn’t hang so low that it would trip me up.  He slipped his arm over my shoulders once again, and we made our way back home, my hands clutching the blanket around me.

“Thank you, Tom, for this…mad morning adventure.”  I yawned.  "Watching the sun come up was a pretty wonderful thing.  I might be willing to do it again sometime.“  I tugged him to a stop and leaned up on my toes, kissing his cheek.  "So long as it’s you dragging me from my warm bed.”  I said softly.

He let us into my flat, gently herding me down the hall to my room and stripping me before shoveling me back into bed.  He striped off rapidly and slid in next to me, pulling me back, snugging me into the curve of his body and kissing my ear.  I drifted off with his warm breath fanning comfortingly on the back of my neck.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugly nightmares..

“Dammit!!”

I shouted and flailed my arms and legs in anger and frustration, pounding the bed with heels and fists.  Fuck!

I rolled over and stared at the barely discernible dark ceiling, growling.  Glancing at my bedside clock, I see that it is 3:43 am.  Precisely five minutes since my last frustrated check.  I can’t sleep and it’s seriously pissing me off.  The last five nights have been nearly exactly the same, and I’m bloody fed to the teeth with it!

Awake three-quarters of each night since Tom left on his promo tour, falling into an exhausted sleep just before dawn, only to be plagued by nightmares.  Horrifying, bloody nightmares that jerk me awake, usually before my alarm goes off at half six to get ready for work.

I can’t imagine what the hell is the matter with me.  

Fuck it. I pulled myself out of bed and got dressed in jeans and tee, throwing on a hoodie against the chilly dark.  I grabbed my keys and mobile, and sat on the floor near the front door to lace up my trainers, my movements jerky and angry.

I stepped out the door and turned to survey the still night, a light drizzle of cold misty rain making halos around the streetlamps.  The city is so quiet and peaceful at this late/early hour, most people home and tucked up in their beds.  Even though I’d rather be sleeping as well, I almost pity those who never take an opportunity to walk when the city sleeps.

I pulled a deep breath of the chilly night air.  The mist has helped wash the city air of the usual scents of car exhaust and the effluvia of vast numbers of people living in close proximity.

My hoodie up over my hair to stay warm, I began what has become an almost nightly trek around my neighborhood.  A walk through the quiet streets sometimes lets me sleep in peace after.

I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me these days, but something is definitely off.  I thought it might have to do with having dredged up my awful memories of Michael, and my anxiety about talking to Tom about it, my fear that he would leave me...or that he wouldn’t.  I’m still confused about that.  My dreams have been truly horrendous.    
But it’s more than that.  I wrapped my arms around my torso as if I could ward off the chill coming from inside me.

God.  The nightmares terrify me every time.  Nightmares of Michael hurting me again.  Of killing him again, only this time with blood and gore splashed everywhere on the dirty walls and ground of the alleyway, my hands dripping with it, instead of a relatively tidy crushed larynx.   

And the most awful of all, the dream of Tom taking my place as his victim, Michael hurting him, raping him, doing the same things he did to me.  Tom crying out to me for help that I am unable to give. Unable to move.  

Unable to scream.

I wiped blurring tears away, sniffling back my helplessness.  It was just a dream, a horrible, awful nightmare.  But I’m awake now.  I won’t be that girl, dammit, whinging and crying and pathetic.  A flash of rage ran through me at my cowardice.

It’s horrifying, waking to my own screams, the screams that won’t come while I’m in the grip of the nightmare.  Fear of the nightmares is probably what’s keeping me from falling asleep to begin with.  But it’s not just anxieties over my memories and nightmares.  My emotions are all over the map in every other part of my life.  To say I’ve felt moody is entirely too inadequate to describe the flash-floods of rage and terror and sadness I’ve been experiencing.   
   
I shouted at Sharon about a late shipment of cabinets yesterday, to my shame.  She was actually pretty understanding when I apologized.  God love her, and I don’t deserve her at all.  She’d spent the rest of the afternoon tracking the shipment down.  I’ll pick up some flowers for her tomorrow.  My lips quirked up.  And a new catnip mouse for her old cat, which Sharon will probably like more than the flowers.

This crazy, spinning emotional whirlwind started after my appointment with Dr. Patel last week.  Of course I’m anxious about the test results. I’m anxious every time I see her for my checks and scans.  She’s determined to catch my cancer earlier than she did with Mum. 

Rani Patel is my doctor, she was my mother’s doctor, and the older woman had taken care of both of us throughout Mum’s long illness.  She’d been very kind to the lost and desperately frightened and unhappy sixteen year old that I’d been.  I see her every year for my checkups to ensure that I’m free of the cancer that carried off both my mother and grandmother in their early forties. I honestly don’t know which of us will be more upset when she finally finds what she’s looking for…

Seeing Rani every year forces me to look at the time I have left on this earth.  I’m determined to make a mark before I’m gone, to make a difference in someone’s life.  I don’t expect to get much further than Mum did, so I’ve got to put as much as I can into the world while I can.  

Life is what you make it.  
   
So why am I fucking it up?

I watched as one of my elderly neighbors came out for a late walk with his equally elderly beagle, Suzi, pottering along.  I don’t know his name, I only know the dog’s name because the old man tends to talk to her loudly.  He must be rather deaf.  I’m sad to realise that I haven’t seen his partner walking with them for a long time.  I expect the old man has died, or is too frail for their walks any longer.  I need to make time to stop by and introduce myself.   
   
I sighed.  There is so much to do, and so little time to do it in.  I shivered, the damp beginning to seep through my hoodie.  Suzi and her man had gone quickly back inside.  Time to head back, myself.  I don’t know which I dread more, sleeping or not sleeping.

I let myself through into my flat, toeing my trainers off, and making my way through the silence to my bedroom.  Undressing, I climbed back onto my high bed, wrapping myself in a cocoon of warm blankets.

Sometimes it seems that the beauty that I want to leave in the world is so heavily outweighed by my own ugliness.

Yep.  That line of thinking is not conducive to sleep.  I grabbed a couple of tissues from the bedside table and wiped tears. Sucking it all back in.  I’m not going to lie here feeling pitiful.  I’ll dig up some courage somewhere, and pull up my grown-arse lady knickers.  Any minute now.

I can only be grateful that Tom is not here this week to witness the crazy.  And that’s another thing.  I know I’m going to have to talk with him about my lack of a future.  That’ll be so much fun.  Not.

***

“What?!” I snapped as I thumbed my mobile on and put it to my ear.  Silence greeted me.  Goddammit, I don’t have fucking time for this!

Finally I heard a long drawn out breath, as I continued to push the tile into the grout, waiting not at all patiently for him to speak.

“What’s wrong, Ellie?” Tom asked, his concern evident.  I could imagine his eyes narrowed and lips tight.

I blew out a breath.  “I’m sorry, Tom.  I’m just busy.  I have my hands full right now, and I really don’t have time to chat.”  I tried to make my voice conciliatory, but I’m sure Tom wasn’t fooled. A pause.

“Alright, darling.  I just had a moment and wanted to hear your voice…”

I fought back the sob lodged in my throat.  I want to curl up and cry, and I don’t even really know why.  But I don’t have the time or patience to be quizzed on my emotional state.

“I really have to go now, Tom.  Talk to you later?”  Praying that he’ll let me off the hook for now.

“Yes. I’ll call tonight.”  I can hardly fucking wait…not.  I turned my phone off, and forced my mind back to my work.

What I’m feeling is pre-KILL SOMETHING NOW-menstrual, despite it being the middle of my cycle.  I’ve had to keep restraining myself from snapping at George and Tariq, today.  Not always successfully.  Every little thing seems to be off somehow.  It has been for most of the week.  Maybe it’s just lack of sleep.   It’s driving me mad.  Tariq was beginning to give me that hunted look of his, the one that shouts ‘Help!  Female craziness here!’

We were working on installing the backsplash in the Reddington’s kitchen, and I’m all fumble fingered, dropping tools and tiles.  I know I’ve got grout on my face, and probably in my hair as well.  And I swear, if Tariq puts that tile on crooked one more time, I’m going to fucking bite him!  And not in a good way!

I ground my teeth together.  Not that I’d ever consider biting Tariq in a good way, or anyway at all, really. I’m certain his very young pregnant wife would not appreciate it at all.  I might have growled.

George abruptly downed tools with a clatter, making me jump and turn on him, ready to give him the rough side of my tongue about the tile I might have broken if I’d had one in hand when he startled me.  But he jumped in first.

“Alright, Ellie, what’s up?  You’re driving yourself right up a wall!  And us, as well!”

To my horror, tears welled in my eyes.  George and Tariq both stared at me as if I’d grown another head.  George snapped out of his stupor first.

“Hey now!”  George wrapped an older-brotherly arm around my shoulders.  "No need for that, love!“  He squeezed my shoulder, jiggling me lightly.

"Tariq and I have this.  Take the rest of the day off, why don’t you?  Whatever it is, it’ll sort itself, give it time.  What do you say?” he asked me kindly.

“I really shouldn’t…” I started, but George interrupted, with Tariq echoing him, “Oh yes, you should!”

I managed a small laugh at them, which is what they were aiming for, I’m sure.  They’re both such teddy bears, sweet and gruff.

“Alright, alright!  I’m going!  Don’t forget to…”

“Go!” they both thundered.  Yeah, I’m going to cry.  I stepped over to George and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his rough cheek.  A liberty I would never take with Tariq, but I glanced his way.  He knows the appreciative kiss is meant for both of them.  He nodded at me.

“Thanks, guys.” I choked, and grabbed my bag, leaving before I could make more of a fool of myself.

I headed home, stopping for takeaway from the fish and chip shop outside the tube station, the smell of the chips fried in hot oil nearly driving me mad before I got home.  It’s been awhile since I’ve had a craving this strong.  When I got home I sat and stared blankly at whatever was on the telly while I ate, lashing the chips with salt and vinegar.  Apparently it’s going to rain again tomorrow.

I got through about half the fish and chips before my stomach turned.  I can’t stand much more of this antsy feeling.  Unable to eat or sit still, I’ve been restless and anxious and temperamental for most of the last week.  I’m not sleeping much, and when I do, my sleep is filled with nightmare images that haunt me all day, after.  Maybe I will ask Dr. Patel about some sleeping pills when I go back for my test results.

I dropped the rest of my meal in the kitchen rubbish, and then went looking for the scotch.  A hot bath and a couple of fingers of scotch oughta do the trick.  Maybe.  I hope.

The scotch bottle had migrated to a higher shelf in the cupboard.  Probably as a result of the fact that Tom’s generally the only one to touch the bottle lately, and he’d left it in arms reach.  His arms.  Dammit.  I stared up at the top shelf, annoyed as fuck that I was going to have to climb to get to a shelf in my own damn kitchen.  Annoyed at the person who thoughtlessly left something out of my reach.  Annoyed at Tom.

I huffed at myself.  I have no business being annoyed with Tom.  He hasn’t done anything wrong.  The poor man isn’t even in town!  Great.  Now I’m annoyed at myself.  That settles that.  I’m definitely getting that goddamn bottle down.

I pulled over a chair from the table and climbed up, pulling myself to stand on the countertop, and reaching for the scotch bottle.  I wobbled slightly.  Shit.  I hate heights, even just a meter and a half makes me feel lightheaded.  I clutched at the shelf and stared into the cupboard, forcing myself to hold still and focus on the contents of the shelf in front of me.  Beans.  Tinned peaches.  Must remember to get more tomatoes…

Steadier, I glanced up and reached the scotch down, smiling a little in triumph.  I climbed down with no further mishaps, other than to my nerves.  I sometimes tell people that I’m allergic to scotch; it makes me fall down…I hadn’t even had any of the scotch yet, but my head is reeling anyway.

I pushed the chair into its place at the table, and found my head spinning just briefly again. I clutched the chair back.  It passed quickly. It’s bad enough that I get vertigo at any height, but now I’m getting it when my feet are planted firmly on the floor?  Fuck that.

Picking up the scotch and a glass, I headed for the bath.  A good hot bath and a dram or three ought to knock my feet out from under me…

I filled the tub with water as hot as I could stand, and what the hell, I threw in some bubble bath.  The lilac stuff that I like, not the lavender stuff that Tom prefers.  Man, I am just pissy about every little thing tonight.

I poured out a couple of fingers, stripped and stuck my hair up with a clip.  Gingerly, I stepped into the tub of steaming water, settling in slowly.  Hissing through my teeth at the heat.

God, that feels good.  The hot water tingling along my skin, hot enough to take all of my attention away from everything else.  I leaned back and slid luxuriously down in the deep tub until my chin was brushing the sweet smelling bubbles foaming off the water’s surface.  

Taking a sip of my scotch, I breathed the fire in my mouth and down my throat, closing my eyes and losing myself in the heated sensations inside and out.  I forced myself to breathe out all my tensions.  A hot bath is almost as good as an orgasm for both riveting one’s attention to the here and now, and relaxation after.  The physical sensations overwhelm and pushes everything else out of my head.

I just lazed and floated for a bit, my body relaxed and my mind empty and drifting.

Eventually, my mind drifted back into my head and I sat up for a refill.  I tossed it back and shuddered, standing and pulling the plug, and letting the cooling water drain away.  

I dried off, my skin sensitized and pink, and found a sleeping tee.  Climbing into my big bed, I stared at the carved vines and flowers before reaching to turn the lights off.  
I let my body relax into the bed, and pulled a pillow into my arms, sighing.  

I miss Tom.  And he’s warmer than my pillow…

 


	27. Chapter 27

The scotch and hot bath did indeed put me out.   
   
Unfortunately, it didn’t save me from nightmares.  Actually it didn’t save me from The Nightmare, the one where Michael is hurting Tom and he’s crying out for me to save him. The Helpless Nightmare.  Oh great.  Now it’s got a fucking title.

The scotch not only didn’t save me from the worst, I think that it sedated me enough that I couldn’t wake up.  I’d relived that over and over.  God, I’m never touching scotch again.

Not to mention the vicious headache.  I stumbled through my morning operating on paracetamol and coffee.  Oh, and an acid stomach.  I talked to George and apologized for yesterday’s clusterfuck.  I talked to Sharon and apologized for yesterday’s clusterfuck.  I chickened out, texted Tom, and apologized for yesterday’s clusterfuck.  He didn’t text back.

I shoved away my automatic ‘oh-god-he-hates-me-now-and-he’s-going-to-leave-me’.  I can’t think about that right now, or I really will come unraveled.

I’m in no fit state to be near anybody right now.  Especially people I care about.  It’s just too much.  I can’t risk going to finish the work at the Reddington’s, can’t risk alienating George and Tariq.  Can’t risk alienating my clients, come to that.  I called and postponed the meet I had set up for later today with a new prospective client, claiming flu.  With my luck, a dose of instant karma flu is on its way.  It doesn’t matter.  I’ve probably lost that client anyway, with out even setting eyes on her…

I could have worked on drafting my next project, but in the state I’m in I’d probably fuck it up really badly.  I spent the morning in the utterly selfish pursuit of drawing up a kitchen for myself.  One with low shelving, thank you very much.  So that I can reach every fucking thing in my own damn kitchen and not have to climb around it like 'Jane of the Fucking Jungle’.  I gritted my teeth and growled.  Gawd, Bitch much?

The more I draw, the more it looks like Bilbo Baggins’ kitchen, built for a hobbit.  It says something, I think, about my need to curl up and be small that this kitchen would be built so low.  I went ahead and added rounded doorways and a rounded fireplace arch,  I experimented a bit with drafting a pull out step riser across the front cupboard face, before tossing the idea.  The point is to have a kitchen personalized for my use, at my height, not to make an accommodation that would allow me to use a kitchen built for someone taller.  I smirked as I lowered the lintels on the round doorways to 5'6".  That ought to keep tall bastards out of my kitchen!

It looks like shit, too.  I tore the paper out of my book and wadded it up.  I’m not fool enough to build a kitchen to keep tall bastards out, if they want in…  Oh.

The headache is oddly soothing, capturing my some of my attention and absorbing whatever all that excess emotion was, allowing me to approach my problem obliquely and study it calmly.  I seem to need some small amount of pain to focus me.

Clearly Tom was wrong about needing to talk.  It didn’t clear out the crap, or make me feel better to get it off my chest.  It just dredged it all up again, and it’s turning me into an out of control raging insomniac maniac.  Oh yes, clearly this is all Tom’s fault.  It would be so much easier if it were all Tom’s fault…

I sighed, deflating, covering my face with my hands, pressing on my closed eyelids with my fingertips.  Not even by the wildest stretch of the imagination could any of this weirdness be his fault.  It’s mine.  All mine.  And I did it to myself.

I just… I just want it to stop.  Why can’t I have a little fucking peace in my life?

Oh, right.

Murderers don’t deserve peace.  Michael paid for what he did with his life.  And now I’m going to pay for what I did with my peace.  It’s only right.  But I have to find some way to protect the innocent bystanders, don’t I?  None of them deserve to be exposed to my shit.

George’s wife was just diagnosed with muscular sclerosis.  Tariq is about to have his first child.  Sharon.  God, Sharon has already had enough trauma in her life.  She had to escape and cut ties with her family after they tried to force her into an arranged marriage in India.  She surely doesn’t need my crap.

And Tom. His career is poised to go stratospheric.

The doorbell went and my shoulders moved up around my ears defensively.  What now?!

Throwing my pencil down on my drafting table, I stomped out to the front.  I flung the door open, not bothering to look. The cool outdoors air hit me.  Oops.  Tank top and knickers.  Shit!

Tom?  Tom stood on my doorstep.  How?  How is he here?  He’s not due back until tomorrow!

Tom’s eyebrows twitched up and his lips crimped as I stood staring at him with my mouth hanging open.  He stepped smartly over the doorstep and pushed the door shut behind him.

Reaching for me, he tugged me into his arms, a hand coming to cradle my head, pressing my ear to his heartbeat, his other wrapped low on my back, pulling me tight against him, nearly lifting me off my feet.  I heard him take a deep breath of my hair and felt his body relax.

My face scrunched up, trying not to cry.  I don’t know how or why he’s here, but God, I so don’t want him to let go.

“What’s going on, love?” He murmured into my hair.

I pulled my head away from his chest and looked up at him.  "You’re not supposed to be home until tomorrow.  What’s happened?“

"I needed to be here.”  He shrugged a shoulder negligently.  "I rearranged some things, doubled up my schedule.“ God, that must have been awful.  His schedule is already jam-packed as it is.  

He shook his head.  "What’s going on, Ellie?"  His hand stroked soothingly over my back.

My eyes slid down to his feet.  His boots.  God, I love those marred, scuffed boots.  I love these boots because they so obviously don’t hurt his feet.  Is it weird to have a real affection for something, anything that comforts your lover?  …Lover?  My breath washed out of me in a gust.

"Now, Ellie.  What’s the matter?  Why haven’t you answered any of my texts or calls today?” Not relinquishing my elbow, staring down into my eyes, puzzlement and concern written in the tilt of his head and the line between his eyebrows.

After staring at my mobile, waiting for him to text back this morning, I’d stuffed my mobile under a sofa cushion in the lounge, hoping that I wouldn’t be able to hear it ring. I guess it worked.  Because really, how am I going to concentrate on anything if I’m just waiting for him to call?  I did that already with James.  I only have so many years or minutes to live.  My skin chilled down.

He’s going to dump me.  I’m a fucking murderess, after all, and clearly a crazy lady to boot. Despair boiled up in me.  I thought we were ok…  My fists clenched and I could feel a wave of angry red sweep over my face, as rage shook me.  I honest to god don’t know whether to slap him, or cower, or scream.  Every emotional signal I had was scrambled all to hell. I felt myself shaking.  My vision wavered, and I nearly fell.

Tom was at my side instantly, catching me and pushing me into a chair, forcing my head between my knees.  I can’t breathe…!  Talking… he’s talking from very far away…  
Tom crouched in front of my chair.  He brushed my hair off my forehead, looking at me with a strained smile, as he came back into focus.

“There you are, darling.”

“I…what?” I blinked up at him, disoriented.  

I tried to stand up, but Tom’s hand on my shoulder forced me to stay down.  His smile faded.  

“Are you alright, darling?  Still faint?  Give it a minute.” Tom said firmly.

"No!  I’m fine! I…I’m sorry.  I…”  I have no idea what will come out of my mouth, what to say next.  I feel frozen in this moment, in his silence.  He let go my arm to lift my head, forcing eye contact.

“Uh-uh, my girl, we are not going backwards with your words,” he said firmly.  He kissed me, then leaned back to look me in the eye, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger.  "Now, tell me exactly what has you so upset?“

Tom was watching me intently, his blue eyes dark and troubled.

He’s not giving me any choices, here.  My throat tightened and I swallowed hard to loosen it enough to speak.

I whispered, "Are you leaving?”

Tom made a small sound, a relieved huff of his breath, and his fingertips came to rest on my lips, stopping my words.

“Wherever did you get that idea?”  He appeared genuinely puzzled.  “No, darling Ellie,” he said calmly, “I am not leaving you. I have no desire to leave you, none.  Quite the contrary.”

I shook my head.  I feel bewildered.  

"Is that what’s been upsetting you? ” he said with a curious tilt to his head.

What do I say?  Do I dump everything that’s been going on in my head this past week on him?  How is that fair?  God, I can barely stand the inside of my head, how can I push him into the maelstrom of my week?

I nodded in answer.  It’s true, I have been upset about whether he’s going to leave me.  It’s just not all the truth.

I swayed with sudden dizziness, and Tom’s face changed to alarm as I put a hand out to steady myself.

“Dammit, Ellie, what’s wrong with you today?” he exclaimed.  “Are you alright?“

"I don’t know!” I clung to his arms, gasping.  “I…I’m just a little lightheaded.  Maybe my blood sugar is low.”   Well, yeah.  I haven’t eaten anything today.  That’ll be it.

“When was the last time you saw a doctor?” he asked worriedly.  Well, shit.  I hadn’t planned on bringing that up.  Yet.

“Um, last week, actually” I admitted.

Tom looked down at me, his eyes narrowed.  "And why didn’t you tell me this, Ellie? Are you ill?  Dammit, Ellie, what aren’t you telling me?”

I closed my eyes tight, the lump of fear rising in my throat again.  I tried to sound unconcerned, but I know I didn’t do a very good job.  I’m terrified and I know it shows.

“It…  It was just my annual checkup.  Because of my mum, you see?  My doctor runs me through a battery of tests and scans every year.  It was just routine.  The results will be back later this week.”  I swallowed hard.

Tom continued to look worriedly at me.

My heart pounded and I could feel the blood drain out of my face.  I reached for Tom’s arms to steady myself, suddenly feeling dizzy again.  Trying to force myself upright, I took a couple of deep breaths.

Tom was there, picking me up and sitting in the chair, with me on his lap.  He pulled me against his chest and crooned, “Shhh love, I’ve got you…”  The soft texture of the linen shirt he wore slid under my cheek, and I leaned into him, smelling the sun-warmed pine scent of him.  I felt a sob well up out of nowhere as tears spilled onto my cheeks.

Tom stroked my back, shoulder to hip, soothing me and murmuring reassurances into my ear, as I continued to cry.  I don’t know why I’m crying, but I can’t seem to stop.  
Tom didn’t press me for answers that I didn’t have, he just let me cry and comforted me while I did.  What the hell is with these tears?  What is wrong with me?

I lifted my head off the rather large wet splotch that I’d made on the dark navy linen, opening my mouth to apologize for crying all over him.  Tom gently pushed me upright by my shoulders and held me there, helping me sit straight.

“Shhh, Ellie,” Tom looked grim and worried.  He captured my gaze, his icy blue eyes jolting me.  His eyes really do change color with his moods…  I blinked.

“Darling, you are… It’s not like you to have these rapid mood swings and emotional storms…the dizzy spells…  Ellie, I’m taking you to A&E.”

I realized just then that the violent mood swings, combined with dizziness and sleeplessness and nightmares…that doesn’t sound good.  I nodded, rubbing my arms.  “O-ok, Tom.”

“Stay here, Ellie, ” he said, his tone brooking no argument.  "I’m just going to fetch your clothing for you.“

"And my bag?” I called after him, plaintively.  He chuckled, coming back from the entryway, carrying my shoes, my bag slung over his shoulder.  "Yes, and your bag, love.“ depositing them next to me. He strode back to my bedroom and reappeared shortly with the rest of my clothing.  He helped me dress, his hands gentle and sure.

Tom knelt in front of me and slid my feet into my shoes, smiling reassuringly up at me.  I found myself reaching out to cup his cheek.  I sighed.

"You’re so damn pretty,” as I ran my thumb over his cheekbone.  Tom’s eyebrows went up as he pulled my trouser legs down over my ankles, briskly.  He grinned.

“You’re very distractible today, aren’t you?  Well, let’s see what we can do to keep you distracted hmm?”  Damned if he didn’t begin to recite Shakespeare to me, as he helped me on with my cardigan.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”  He asked deeply, his honeyed voice wrapping around me and transporting me to another time and place.  Damn his fucking voice.  One of the sonnets. Nineteen, I think.  When he finished I couldn’t help but laugh, delighted with his recitation.

“Oh, another!  More, pleeeease?” I begged.

Tom chuckled as he steered me out to his car and settled me into the seat.

“What will you have?” he asked, as he leaned over me to snap my seatbelt with a smile.  I clapped my hands together, nearly wriggling in my enthusiasm.

“Oh, please!  The Saint Crispin’s Day speech, of course!”

Tom laughed.  "Shall I go back inside and change into Henry’s jerkin?“ he teased as he shut my door and went around the car, sliding into the drivers seat and snapping his seatbelt smoothly.  A new thought occurred to me.

"Oh my god, Tom!  Do you seriously have Henry’s red leather jerkin?!  I bounced in my seat.  "Oh god, please, please tell me you have the leather trousers!”  

Fuck me, the vision I have in my head of Tom wearing nothing but those leather, laced trews…  Holy hell!  I think I’m getting wet.  I squirmed in my seat.  Yep.

“Be a good girl, and you might find out,” Tom purred as he looked out the corner of his eye at me with a sly smile.  Then he launched into the Saint Crispin’s Day speech as he drove.

I turned in my seat toward him, biting my bottom lip as he fucking morphed into Henry V.  I was fascinated by the incongruity of Henry V coming to life in the seat next to me, exhorting me to take courage and fight against the odds, all while sporting Tom’s short strawberry curls and glasses perched on his nose as he drove us through the London streets.

I stared at Tom, his face blurring, becoming my focal point, the only thing I could see as my vision tunneled.  I blinked hard… my lips feel tingly…dizzy…


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I know there’s a big jump in time in there, but honestly? We all know being admitted to hospital is tedious, right?  There’s the thing with giving perfect strangers very personal information, and the thing where you wait what feels like forever to be seen, and more personal questions, and feeling ill and overwhelmed, and waiting, and testing, and waiting some more to be told, essentially, that they have no earthly idea what’s wrong with you, but Hey!  You get to spend the night in a strange place with strange people walking into your room repeatedly at random intervals, and asking you why you’re not asleep!  Oh, and some poor soul down the hall might be dying.  Like that’s not a little stressful..

I stirred, taking a breath of achingly familiar antiseptic air and blinked my eyes open.  Hospital.  Oh god.

Tom was sitting on a chair next to the bed.  Both his hands are wrapped around my hand and wrist firmly, even in sleep, his head resting on his arm, curls tousled, and face turned sweetly, innocently toward me in sleep.  I started to reach my other hand toward him, wanting to run my hand through his soft hair when I felt a tug on my arm.  I looked over.  

Damn, there’s an IV in the crook of my elbow, and a bag of some clear fluid dripping into me from a high pole.  I wonder vaguely what’s in it.  And why I’m not freaking out about it.

I felt Tom stir next to me, and turned to watch his head come up and a smile bloom on his face.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” he said as he slowly sat up and smoothed my hair back from my face, gently tucking it behind my ear.

“They’ve kept you in hospital overnight for observation while Dr. Patel runs some tests, darling.  She’ll probably be here soon.  You might feel a little groggy from the sedative they gave you last night…”  

Right.  I remember now.  My god, I’d actually slept through the night?!  And no nightmares? 

I blinked at him.  "I feel fine.“ I said firmly, pushing to sit up.

Tom smiled and stood, helping me to sit and raising the head of the bed, bending over to kiss me, his hand caressing the side of my face.

"You, darling, are very fine indeed…” he said with a sweet smile.

I snorted at Tom being flirtatious with me, my hair every which way, and in a hospital gown.  The most unflattering garment ever invented…

“You really are an idiot, you know.” I muttered and shook my head.  How could he even think…

"Yes darling, but I’m your idiot…  And on that note, I’d better tell you,” he glanced around conspiratorially, and continued in a low voice, “I told them I was your husband, and I used your name so they’d let me stay with you.  Don’t be surprised when someone calls me Mr. Mackenzie, right?”

“Yes, dear.” I smiled wanly.

He opened his mouth to reply, but there was a knock on the door.  Tom sat straight, giving me an encouraging smile, and called over his shoulder, “Come!”

I snickered.

He snorted at me, giving me a little pinch, and making me laugh.

Rani pushed the door open and walked into my room, looking at my chart.  She was a small dark haired woman with a sweet face and an implacable will.  And fiercely protective of her patients.

“Well, Ellie, I think we’ve tracked down one of the sources of your oscillating emotions.” She flourished a sheet of lab work results at me.  

"You, lucky girl, are experiencing some fairly severe side-effects from your oral contraceptive.  When did you take your last pill?“  She asked as she busied herself listening to my heart and lungs.

The breath went out of me in relief.  All this crazy emotional stuff was a medication reaction, not actual crazy?!  Oh thank god! I glanced at the daylight outside the window.  
“The last one was yesterday morning.”

“That’s fine,” Dr. Patel said, "Don’t take any more though, right?  Hormonal contraceptives are apparently not your friend!  We’ll talk about different birth control methods at your appointment next week when all your other test results are in.”

I heard a big breath whoosh out of Tom as his hand tightened on mine.   
   
“She’s alright?  She’ll be alright?” Tom asked her anxiously.

“That depends,“ Rani answered.  "I believe she’s got a particularly nasty synergy going right now, with the hormones feeding into what I suspect is probably a pretty overwhelming case of PTSD…”  She looked Tom up and down.  “Are you the cause?” Rani demanded bluntly.  I gasped.

Tom’s mouth fell open and he literally gaped at Rani.  Then his mouth snapped shut and he turned to look at me, his eyes carefully inspecting me.

“PTSD?”  We spoke at the same time. I was looking at Rani in horror. I could see Tom looking at me assessingly.  I looked back at him and blinked, stunned.  Then my brain kicked back into gear.  I don’t know much about PTSD, but I could see how out of control hormones might make everything very much worse.  Take crazy and add crazy.

Damn.

Tom held his hand out to me, searching my face.  I reached for and grasped his warm hand with my suddenly cold fingers.

Tom’s smile for me was the sun breaking through clouds, drawing my own smile from me.  He spoke, answering Rani’s question, but kept his focus trained on me.

“Doctor, I sincerely hope that I am not the cause.”  He turned his eyes to Rani and I saw his mouth go grim. “But I don’t know that I haven’t contributed in some way.  I never intended to cause her any harm.”

Tom brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it gently, looking into my eyes. Then he set my hand down beside me with a pat, removing his hand to rest on his thigh, and looked steadily at Rani.

I felt my eyes well up.  Oh please…please don’t leave me alone with this…!  No.  That is not gonna happen!  I slipped my hand under his, curling into his palm, and looked defiantly at Rani.  I’m not going to let her get between Tom and me.  He’s just about the only good thing that’s happened to me in…forever, and I’m not letting go.  No.  
His fingers had wrapped securely around my hand and held on.

Rani watched this play out thoughtfully. “Well, that answers my question pretty definitively, I think,” she said with satisfaction.

“Ellie love, I’ve been urging you to seek therapy since your mother died.  Can’t you see that you need to treat this now?” She paused before continuing.  "I have a friend, Dr. Ryan, who is a very good therapist, and very familiar with PTSD.  Will you go see her?”

I turned my gaze to Tom.  He gave me his level look, my eyes trapped by his, and dipped his chin, his eyes clearly commanding.  Well, shit.

I glanced at Rani.  “Yes, “ I sighed, “alright.  I know when I’m outnumbered…”

“Excellent, Ellie! Here’s her card.”  She handed it to me.  “I’ve asked her to see you, she’s expecting your call.  This week, mind.”

I took the card and looked down at it, unable to read it through the sudden blurring of tears.  I swallowed and blinked back the tears.  Rani’s hand covered mine, and I looked up at her.

“It’ll be alright you know, love,” she stated confidently.  Tom squeezed the hand he still held.  “And I expect you’ll have some help.” she tilted her head at him.

“Whether she wants it or not.”  Tom stated firmly and nodded decisively, his eyes on me.

“Good.”  Then she confided to Tom, jerking her chin at me, “You have to practically tie this one up to get her to accept help!”

I threw myself back against my pillow, and groaned.  I can feel the scalding blush move over my face.

“Dear god, Rani, please go away now…”

They both chuckled.

She nodded and turned to Tom with a smile.  "You did the right thing, bringing her in to A&E.  Well done.“  Tom shrugged.

"She’s my beautiful girl.”  My breath caught, a lump rising in my throat.  "Thank you for your care of her, as well, Doctor.” He held out his hand to shake hers.

Rani studied Tom a moment, her head tilted, before taking his hand.  Her mouth quirked up.  "You’re very welcome ‘Mr. Mackenzie’.  Perhaps I’ll meet you properly sometime.“  
She turned back to me and grinned.  "We definitely have to talk!  I’ll send some literature home with you about your other birth control options, Ellie, we’ll talk about that next week, too.  In the meantime I’m going to give you a prescription for something to help with your insomnia and nightmares.  Be sure to let Dr. Ryan know you’re taking it.  Any questions?”

I glanced at Tom and he shook his head, smiling at me.

“Not right this minute,” I grimaced.  “I’m sure I’ll think of some as soon as you’re out the door.”  I swallowed. “Thanks, Rani.” I said softly.

“No worries, kid.  Take care of yourself, see you next week.  Call Dr. Ryan, right?”  She nodded at Tom, and left, scribbling a note in my chart on her way through the door.  
     
"I don’t think I’d like to tangle with your Dr. Patel, darling,” his eyes wide.

“Probably best.  She has an enormous family, most of them boys.  She doesn’t put up with much shit!  She sometimes took me home with her for a meal with her family when Mum was hospitalized.”  A knot formed in my throat.  I remember secretly hoping that Rani would take me in after Mum…but then Aunt Patricia had showed up.  I clenched my hands.

Tom fussed with my pillows, pulling them out from behind me and inserting himself against the raised head of the bed, tucking my head under his chin and wrapping his long arms around me, pulling me against him.  He picked Dr. Ryan’s card out of my hand and put it in his pocket.

“Wouldn’t want you to misplace that.  You’ll be calling her when we get you home.” he said sternly.  I nodded, and relaxed against his chest.

"Thank god, Ellie.”  He muttered quietly into the top of my head as he squeezed me.  He held me cradled against his chest, chin hooked over my shoulder, and a hand lightly stroking my breast idly.  We were both quiet.  Until my sniffle broke the silence.

“What is it darling,” he asked.

I sniffled, wiping a tear off my cheek.  "It’s just the…thing.“  I waved at my IV and the hospital room around us.  I paused and thought, his arms around me making it safe to continue.

"It’s…weird to know that all those bursting emotions aren’t completely real, that they were all magnified by my reaction to a medication.  It’s a little terrifying to tell you the truth.  As if someone else has their hand on my volume control.”  I shook my head.  "I’m sorry.  I’m rambling and not making much sense…“

"No, darling.  It makes every kind of sense.”

"I understand that you’re on an emotional overload love, and overwhelmed. You’re not  accountable for something you really don't have any control over!”  He took my chin in hand.  Suddenly he looks all stern and Dom-ly.

“However, you WILL let me take care of you, Ellie.“  He shook my chin lightly and continued, "You, my sub, are going to comply.  There will be no argument, do you understand, Ellie?”

My eyes traveled between his, gauging his sincerity.  Damn.  There is a steely determination in those aqua eyes.  Implacable.  He thinks I’m going to give him a fight?  Doesn’t he know that I couldn’t do this without him??

I sat up away from him, twisting around to look at him, and laid a hand on his cheek, feeling the overnight scruff of his beard scrape against my palm.

“Thank you.”  I said quietly.  Something in Tom’s face relaxed minutely, some of the tension of an expected battle draining away.  His eyes softened.  Keeping a hand on his cheek and my eyes on his face, I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“Kiss me?  Please?”

Tom kissed me and held me quietly for the next several minutes, until one of the nurses came in to remove my IV.  She chattered away about my discharge instructions, Tom questioning her about the scrip that Rani had said she was leaving for me.

I didn’t really pay any attention, too distracted by processing that my recent change in oral contraceptive had been wreaking this havoc and chaos with my body and my emotions. And then the whole PTSD thing. Which, timing wise, suggests that it's seeing Rani for my annual check up that triggered it.  I bit my lip, watching Tom interact with the nurse.  Shit.  I must have put him through hell in the last 18 hours.   
   
And yet, he’s still here…

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from a lazy sun soaked week in Mexico! Thanks for your patience!

I was quiet as Tom drove us back to mine.  Thinking about all the …things.  My mind started to race with all the reasons why I shouldn’t have given into my weakness, to my desire to be taken care of.

He doesn’t have time to take care of me…  Shit.  He’s got all sorts of professional obligations booked.  Hell, I don’t have time for this right now, either!  I’ve got…  I mentally flipped through all the engagements in my calendar… meets with prospective clients for estimates.  Meets with new clients for preliminary drafts.  Work piling up at my current projects.  George and Tariq having to shoulder the whole thing…  My hands twisted in my lap, and I heard my heart begin to thump in my chest, my breath coming faster.

Tom made a small tsking sound and I glanced over at him.  He was checking the traffic all around, when he suddenly pulled into a spot at the kerb and switched off.  
He turned and looked at me, then reached to unlock both our seat belts.  He pushed his seat back and held his hands out to me.

“Come here, Ellie.”

I felt my eyes fill with tears, dammit.  How can he be so…kind?  I’ve been so much trouble for him.  And I’m about to be so much more…  I reached out my hand to him and his other came around, undoing my seatbelt and helping lift me over the console onto his lap, his hand cupping my head to his heart, and making me feel utterly wrapped up. 

Safe.

His other hand stroked over and over my side as we sat quietly.  I snuffled a bit.

“It’s a lot to cope with right now I know, beautiful girl.   But we’ll get through this.  Together, right?”  He pushed my chin up and looked down seriously into my face.

“But Tom, your bookings…and I have work too…”

“Shhh, Ellie.  We’ll work it all out eventually, everything doesn’t have to be fixed right this moment.”

“But…”

“Hush, now.  I’ve already been on to Luke about rearranging some things.  We’ll figure out your work issues in a bit.  When we get home we’ll have a cup of tea and a think, right?”

I thumped my head on his chest.  "Not everything can be solved with a nice cup of tea, Thomas!“  I said a bit acerbically.

His lips quirked and laugh lines crinkled.  “No…But there’s always chocolate and tequila!”

I groaned.  "Oh god, don’t remind me!  That night wasn’t humiliating at all!“ I grimaced.

Tom cocked an eyebrow, smile still lurking.  

"It’s true, you were a great deal of trouble… Very messy, darling.  Perhaps we’ll forgo the tequila and go straight to the chocolate?”

I flushed, but Tom was only teasing.  Thank god.  I can’t bear it when he looks at me all worried-like.  I took a deep breath and forced a smile for him.

“Chocolate would be good.”

I moved to get back into my seat, but Tom once again plucked me up and helped me settle, clicking my seatbelt.

I watched him as he drove.  Tom has probably already taken care of everything with his usual competence and dispatch.  One thing I’ve come to know about him; once he makes a decision he doesn’t hang about.

We pulled to a stop in front of my building.  I looked up at it.  It seems foreign somehow.

I didn’t mean to be rude.  And I have every intention of living up to my promise to let him care for me.  But I’m not an invalid, dammit!  And it seems like there are some things that I can do for myself…  So, I didn’t wait for him to come around the car bonnet, I opened my own door and stood, squeezing my eyes shut and pulling in a deep breath.  I know I’m going to have to find the words to talk to him about all of this, but I simply don’t yet have the… I don’t even know.  The words?  The courage?  The patience?  Any/all of those things.  I’m going to just have to keep reminding myself; he volunteered for this shit.  I gritted my teeth and opened my eyes.

Tom stood next to the car door, looking down at me with a slight smile.  I expected him to be annoyed or reproachful for my small show of defiance.  But he looks…pleased.  
“You’ll do, love.  Let’s go in.”  He kissed my forehead and took my bag from my shoulder as he shut the car door behind me.

“Ooof!  Christ, it’s heavy!  What on earth do you have in here, bricks??” he asked as he shouldered my bag and put his hand in the small of my back to guide me up the steps to the door.

I flicked a deadpan look at him.  "Breath mints.“ I answered.

Tom choked and snickered.  Then he began to laugh, pulling me into his embrace, his laughter rocking us together.

I grinned at him, feeling rather pleased with myself that I’d made him laugh.  Really laugh.  He stood back and wiped the heels of his hands at the laugh tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes, still chuckling.  It wasn’t all that funny, but it did it’s job, letting some of his stress from our hard day and night loosen.  I guess I’m not the only one who needs to be taken care of.  Good.  I can let him take care of me, if he will let me take care of him…

We went in, and I drew a deep breath, looking around.  I’d been gone less than 24 hours, but spending the night in hospital…  It was as if I hadn’t been here in a year, the flat seeming stale and hushed.  I’m exhausted, even though I’d slept with no nightmares that I can remember.  I know Tom can’t have slept well in that chair.  Tom dropped my bag on the foyer table and towed me by the hand into the kitchen.

"First things first.”  He boosted me up to sit on the countertop, pushing my knees apart, he stepped between them and kissed me long and slow, until I had relaxed and leaned against him, all the tension leaching out of me.

“Tea.”  He whispered against my lips, breaking the kiss.  He set about heating fresh water and assembling cups as I watched languidly, my head leaning back on the cupboard.

As he waited for the water to boil he filled a glass with water and pulled out the prescription that Rani had left for me, read the instructions and tapped out a dose, handing the pill and glass to me.

I stared at the small pill in my hand.  Why should it be so hard to put this in my mouth?  Even though I’ve felt so out of control and I hate it…at least I felt what I felt.  I’m a little afraid.  Will this medication dull my senses, make my emotions not feel like my own anymore?  I looked up at Tom as he stood watching me seriously.

He moved to lay his forehead against mine and speak quietly, his hands sliding comfortingly up and down my thighs.

“You don’t have to Ellie.  It’s your choice about whether to start this medication…”  He took a breath.  "But Dr. Patel…Rani, thinks that it will help cut down on all the nightmares and emotional storms you’ve been suffering through.“  He stood and waited patiently, continuing to stroke my thighs as I deliberated.  The nightmares…  I shuddered.

At last I shrugged and swallowed the pill down, Tom’s hand moving under the glass and urging me to drink all the water.  Anything to avoid those awful nightmares, and to be able to sleep peacefully.  Honestly, I’m certain that the nightmares and lack of sleep exacerbated everything.  Not to mention the hormones.  It’ll be much easier to cope if I can get some decent sleep…

Tom insisted I call Dr. Ryan’s office while he sorted the tea.  Tom and I drank our tea and figured out how to work my work schedule around my appointments with Dr. Ryan.   It wasn’t as difficult as I’d feared.  Before long Tom had me well in hand.  I thought I ought to feel resentful, but honestly?  I was just relieved not to have cope with everything all on my own.

I shuddered and grimaced realizing that I smelled like a hospital room.  It just seems to cling to my skin, the odors of antiseptics and misery.

Tom craned his neck, his eyes zeroing in on my face.

"Now, what was that face about?”  He tipped his chin at me, demanding an answer.

“I smell like I spent the night in hospital…  You do, too.” I grumbled.

“Right.  Bath.”  Tom pushed me to stand and climbed out of the chair behind me.  He towed me to the bath and went about organizing towels and water temperature in the bathtub, adding the lavender bubble bath he likes, as I stood on the mat and watched.  He stopped me when I began to remove my clothes.

“Let me darling…”  Tom gently peeled my clothes off of me, dropping them in the laundry hamper.  He unhurriedly removed his own clothing and dropped them in after mine.

Taking my hand, he stepped into the tub and held tightly to my hand as I stepped into the gloriously hot water and bubbles after him.  Tom sat with a little hiss at the temperature and held his hands up to guide me down between his legs, my back against his chest.

His deep breath echoed mine as I relaxed into the hot water and back into his arms.  I felt his body relax as mine did, until we both lay just enjoying the warmth and the quiet.

Tom pulled a towel into the water from the side of the tub, soaking it in the hot water, and gently pulling it up to cover my chest and shoulders where they peeked out of the water, effectively warming where I was becoming chilled by the air on my damp skin.  Every minute or two he scooped a wave of water over the towel to re-warm it.

Eventually, he set the towel aside and began to wash me gently.  He shampooed my hair.  Then he let me wash his hair.  I worked up a lather in his hair, scratching at and massaging his scalp for several minutes.  Eyes closed, Tom looked half-way between nirvana and orgasmic.  I smiled, enjoying his enjoyment.  Like a damn big cat, nearly purring.

“Like that, do you?”  I murmured.

“Mmmm…”

I tilted his head back into the water and rinsed his hair, careful not to splash over his face.

“Well, as kinks go, it’s a pretty mild perversion…”  I teased.

“Oh darling, why do you think I went into acting?  I get to have strange women playing with my hair nearly every day…”  He said with a look of smug sincerity on his face.

I laughed.  "Well.  That’s…creative.  Somehow I doubt that’s the only reason you took up acting… I’m sure the pretty actresses never entered into it.“  I teased and his grin flashed, the boyish one that I think of as ‘Oakley’.

I kissed the top of his wet hair and patted his shoulder.

"That’s you done.”

Tom pulled the plug, stood and stepped out, telling me to wait.  He quickly dried himself and wrapped a towel around his body.  He’d just stood in front of me entirely nude…how is it that the towel slung low on his hips is even sexier?

He reached down and lifted me entirely from the tub, carefully setting me on my feet.  He dried me and wrapped me in a bath sheet, picked me up and walked into the bedroom, setting me on the bed.  A moment later he sat next to me and began combing out my mess, working through the snags and snarls.

When he was done, he set my comb aside and directed me to lie on my belly.  I’m so warm and sleepy from the bath…  I sighed as I stretched out.

Tom surprised me by straddling my waist and pulling the towel down off my shoulders and upper back, but then he began to smooth those big warm hands over my shoulders and arms.  I might have moaned.  Tom chuckled.

His hands moved to the knots left in my neck and shoulders, digging with his strong thumbs, searching out tensions.  It hurt, but I knew it would feel so much better when he was done, and I was right.  When he let up pressure and stroked away the ache, it left me loose and limp.

He shifted his weight on my bum, letting my arse take more of his weight, pressing my hips into the mattress.  His weight changed the angle of my pelvis, stretching my lower back muscles as he firmly stroked and kneaded them.

He worked his way back up my body this way, smoothing away tension and hurt, leaving behind peace and a boneless relaxation.  

When he finished, he climbed off, tipping me to the side and sliding his body under mine, pulling me to rest half on top of him.  He reached down and lifted my knee, pulling my leg up to drape over his thighs.

I rubbed my cheek against the smattering of hair, soft skin and hard muscle of his chest in a gesture of returned tenderness.  He gathered the hand resting on his chest, his thumb sliding into my palm.  When he lifted our hands from his chest, my hand automatically curled around his thumb.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he set our hands back on his chest and held them there, his head tilted down, cheek on my hair.  Tom began to hum a tune, his voice rumbling through his chest under my ear, lulling me to sleep.

Tom spent a good deal of the next two days wrapped around me, touching me, cuddling me, making sure I had regular meals.  I’d been so shaken by my last week that I just let him.  He kept me thoroughly occupied and distracted, driving me out of my mind, literally.  He piled physical sensation on top of physical sensation until I couldn’t have told him my name if he’d asked.

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

Dr. Ryan had a kind face and a dry wit.  I’d liked her immediately, which is not to say that I necessarily enjoyed our sessions…She had a penchant for asking me difficult questions and a genius for detecting evasions and red herrings, firmly steering me back to the question.

The first day she charmed me by confiding that her first name was ‘Letitia’, and telling me in no uncertain terms to call her ‘Ryan’, and drop the ‘Doctor’, if you please!  Just at first I was a little intimidated, but it didn’t take long for her to put me almost at ease.  She’s wickedly intelligent, probably she could give Tom a run for his money.  And she always seemed to know when I was dancing my way around a question.  

She got that some questions are minefields for me.  She always calls me on it, but she’s always patient with me.  She gets that I dance around some questions because I’m afraid of how people will react to my answers.  She knows that I learned to not answer questions with uncomfortable answers when my Mum was sick, simply because I was trying not to add to Mum’s pain and unhappiness while she was dying.  I learned to eat my own fear and unhappiness to stop Mum having to worry about me.  I never really learned to stop doing that.

Ryan figured out all that in about the first 30 minutes of talking with me.  Sometimes it feels as though I have a fucking window in my head that she can see through.  I know intellectually that she’s right.  She can’t help me, and I can’t help myself, if I’m not honest with her.  I just never really knew that I was being dishonest about anything.  I’ve always thought of myself as an honest person who was caring enough to try to spare others dealing with my pain and unhappiness.  It was fucking painful to realize that I was first lying to myself about, well, everything.

Sleet rattled down on the window of Ryan’s office, raindrops trickling coldly down the pane, the skies beyond dark and thick with the promise of more.  Street lights started to come on, somehow adding to the gloom.  The headlights of passing cars briefly illuminating the raindrops into white diamond bursts.  I can faintly hear the splashing and shushing sounds of tyres on the wet streets through the windowpane.

Ryan and I sipped our tea simultaneously, my cup warming my chilled fingers.  Exactly what I needed today.

Ryan asked, “So, what are your plans for the holidays?”  She set her cup down on the small table at her elbow and picked up her pen and notebook, settling back in her chair attentively.

I smiled at her over my cup.  "Is that what all that gorgeous red is about?  The holidays?“  I asked, gesturing at her clothing.  She wore black trousers and a beautiful crimson silk tunic over a black scoop neck tee, and it looked very festive.  I can tell she likes it, her hands keep straying to it and stroking the silk.

She grinned at me.  "Mm hmm.  You’re very observant.  And changing the subject.  Now, what about those holiday plans, Ellie?”

My smile slipped.  "I don’t…really celebrate.“  I shrugged, "I’ll just spend the time working on my designs, or finishing some handwork.  I’m working on a series of hand painted tiles with red poppies on them.  I love the colors…”

“Did you have any sort of holiday traditions when you were a child?”  She asked, brushing off my tangent about poppy tiles, which I would much rather talk about.  I sighed.  Ryan is not going to let me change the subject.

I shrugged.  "Oh sure.  Mum and I would get a tree and decorate it.  She loved having a live tree in the house, and would remark on the scent of it every morning.  And we’d bake loads of pies and biscuits.“  I smiled reminiscently.  "But there doesn’t seem much point with just me.” I finished.

"What about your Dad?” She asked curiously.

“What about him?”  I heard my tone harden.  "Dad just drank until he passed out on the sofa like he did every night, Christmas wasn’t any different.  So yeah, you know.  Christmas was not…Mum worked so hard to give us a good Christmas, but it’s a little difficult to do with a drunken sod passed out under the tree every night.“

Bitter?  Who, me?  I snorted.

"So you don’t get a tree of your own?  You don’t bake or do any of the things that you and your Mum did together?”

“Why bother?”  I set my tea down and looked out the window.  "It doesn’t matter.  I’m not a big believer, anyway.“  Somewhere deep down inside I felt a very small piece of yearning unfurl.  "I do miss Mum, though.”

Ryan regarded me thoughtfully.  "You know, Ellie, its not a bad thing to carry some family traditions forward.  It’s one way to honor the ones we love, the family we miss.  It’s ok to recreate those good memories.  You don’t have to cut yourself out of the holidays.  Those things help you belong-“

“But Ryan… I don’t really want to belong to my family!”  I interrupted.  “…Except Mum.”

“Then perhaps it’s time for you to make some of your own traditions?  Because you belong to the human family, and they’re all out there,” she waved a hand out the window where I could see people hurrying past, tucked under umbrellas, bundled against the icy rain, “carrying out their traditions, creating a sense of togetherness with the rest of the humans.  It’s ok to join them, you know…  Do you get invitations from friends to spend Christmas together, or do any sort of holiday type activities, Ellie?”

“Sure.  Sometimes.”  I stirred uncomfortably.  “All the time, actually.  It’s kind of a pain to come up with valid excuses to miss them.  But they don’t need me hanging about, ruining their celebrations.  Sharon’s been bugging me to have a little office party, and she’s Hindu!  Tariq is Muslim, and I think George is Christian, but I’m not sure.  Sharon says Christmas is supposed to be a celebration of ‘Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Women!’ and everyone can get behind that, regardless of their religion or lack thereof.  I don’t know…maybe she’s right.”

Her clock suddenly chimed the quarter hour, and she straightened and sighed.

“Well, think about it, ok?  The holidays can be really hard for some people.  I don’t want you to be one of them.”

She stood, smoothing down the crimson silk.  “See you next week?”

“Yeah.”  I sighed as I put on my coat and picked up my umbrella.

“Ok, Ellie, stay safe.  And Happy Holidays!”  I smiled at Ryan, her good cheer a contagious thing.  “You too, Ryan.”

I pulled my collar up against the cold wind as I stepped out of the building, unfurling my umbrella against the icy spicules spitting down.  Setting off for the tube, I joined the mass of anonymous black umbrellas moving down the pavement, thinking and watching the rain bounce back off the walkway, splashing through puddles in my wellies.

I contemplated what I remembered of the contents of my refrigerator as I moved down the stairs of the underground station, figuring out what to do about dinner.  Soup might be good.  Or maybe chicken?  Chicken Marsala and a green salad.  I’ll have to stop at the market…

It was no good.  Ryan had inserted the holidays in my head, thoughts of my mum crowding out my attempt to distract myself with dinner preparations.

Mum had loved the holidays.  She had always seemed so joyous and vivacious at this time of year.  Always encouraging me to get my chin up, to join in, to help with preparations and the baking.  I can remember her in the warm, sweet smelling kitchen, her eyes sparkling, flour on her hands, standing at the table teaching me to make cut-out biscuits like her mother’s.  Telling me stories of my grandparents who’d both passed on before I was born.  She sometimes sang along with an old Christmas album of her Dad’s by Nat King Cole.  I can still hear her…

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…”  Prodding me to sing with her.

Tom texted me as I climbed the stairs from the underground at my stop and back into the rain, telling me that he’d finished for the day and that he’d meet me at mine.  
Tom has never said, but I’ve noticed that he’s making a point to be around after my sessions with Ryan.  He usually manages to get me into the tub with a glass of wine on those days.

I texted him back with my plan to stop at the market on the way home, and that I’d see him in a bit.

I completed my errands as quickly as I could, heading home at last in the cold rain.  Waiting at the light to cross with a dozen other umbrellas, I glanced from under mine at the crowd.  There’s one umbrella with a circular rainbow design, another one the same color as Ryan’s tunic.  

My head was turned when it happened.  A car took the corner in front of me through a deep puddle of rushing rainwater and city grit, sending a wave over all of us.  Of course, being front and centre, I took the brunt, the brutal slash of icy water all up my legs, my side, and my back, nearly to the bottom of my ribcage.

A loud chorus of screams, curses and groans bloomed from the lot of us, tailing off into grumbling.  I just stood, blinking in shock at the icy blast, my breath stopped in my lungs for a moment before beginning to work again.

So, I’m weird.  It just struck me as ludicrous and funny.  So damn cliche.  What is this?  A ‘Sex in the City’ episode?  I started to giggle, this ridiculous laugh building inside me.  Hey, you can laugh, or you can cry.  So you might as well laugh, right?  So I laughed.  And around me others started to chuckle and chatter at each other.

The light changed at last and we all stepped over the puddle and crossed, the man next to me taking the elbow of the older woman next to him to help her safely over.  We all sounded like a flock of kids just out of school, laughing and commenting to the stranger next to us.

I turned the corner another block away, and several called goodbye and Happy Christmas as I left the group.

I shook my head as I walked the last block.  A Christmas miracle, city strangers laughing and chattering together after being doused by freezing water! Dirty rainwater  was sloshing in my wellies as I walked, soaked from the ribs down..  Such strange and weirdly wonderful things happen in the city.  Mum would have loved it.  Mum definitely would have laughed.  I grinned as I trudged up the steps and fished out my keys, thinking of how Mum would have been delighted in laughing in a crowd of random strangers.

A stray though struck me as I set my bags down in the entry and upended my umbrella and wellies over the towel on the floor.

I feel good.  I feel…happy.  I don’t know why, but at this moment, drenched with filthy, cold rainwater, I feel good.  More my usual self.

I hung my coat and carried the groceries into the kitchen, hearing the water running, knowing that Tom is preparing a bath for me.

I walked through my bedroom to the door of my bath, leaning on the doorjamb, watching Tom pour a bit of lavender bubble bath liquid into the flowing water.  He swished his hand through the water, stirring up the bubbles forming.  The back of his neck and the side of his face that I could see were pink with the heat and humidity of the bathwater.  
I must have made some small noise shifting against the doorway, as he turned and caught sight of me, the smile on his face turning to alarm.  He jerked straight and stood.

“Ellie!  What’s happened to you?!  You’re drenched, love!” he said, reaching for me.

I warded him off. “Nothing terrible, it turns out.  But I’m awful dirty.  I’d really like to shower off before getting into this lovely bath.”

“Right.”  Tom helped peel my wet clothing off, my jeans clinging stubbornly to my wet, chilled skin, as I recounted the incident at the kerb.  He bundled me into the shower, letting me soap up and wash off.  When I turned the water off he was there with a warm towel, and brought me straight to the tub, helping me in and carefully settling me.  
I moaned as I sank into the warmth and bubbles, inhaling the lavender scent and feeling my muscles uncoil.  Tom handed me a glass of my favorite riesling and kissed my forehead.

“I’ll leave you to it, shall I?  Have a nice soak, love.”  He trailed out of the room.

I sipped my wine and contemplated my day.  Ryan and her holiday fixation.  Getting doused with filthy street water.  The good cheer suddenly manifesting from the strangers around me.  Mum.

I don’t want to think anymore. The warm water is soothing, and the wine is lovely, so I cleared my mind and just floated for awhile.  I got out when the water cooled.  
I blotted excess water from my sopping hair and decided to just let it air dry.  I was almost too warm from my bath, so I just pulled on a tee shirt and some cheeky pants, padding barefoot into the kitchen to start dinner.

Tom came up behind me at the kitchen counter where I was mincing herbs to go into the marsala sauce for tonight’s dinner, as I danced around my kitchen prepping the meal.  His hands gently took my shoulders and he leaned down and nuzzled my neck…

“Are you warm enough?” he murmured into my skin.  Blowing a strand of hair off my forehead, I assured him that I was plenty warm.

“Good,” he answered.  He took the knife out of my hand and set it down, then reached for the hem of my tee shirt, playing his fingers over my skin at the edge.  "Hmm.  I like watching you dance, and I like watching you cook.“  Tom waggled his eyebrows playfully at me.  "But naked is better.  Which shall I remove first, shirt or knickers?” he asked.  
I jerked, startled, kind of shocked.  Not because Tom wants me naked, that’s hardly a surprise.  But because ‘he who shall not be named’ used to ask me trick questions like that, and I invariably got them wrong.  And that never turned out well for me.  I stepped back quickly from Tom, pushing his hand away.

My mouth opened, but I snapped it shut on my first impulsive words.  Tom has never played those kinds of games with me…

"See,” I cocked my head to one side as I watched him a little warily, “I’m fairly sure that the answer you’re looking for is some variation of  'Whatever Sir wishes’ .  I’m also fairly certain,” I grimaced at him, “that you know you’re unlikely to get pre-programmed responses from me.  So my answer is… that I don’t care about my teeshirt and knickers.  My preference would be that you not ask my opinion unless you actually want it…”

Tom rocked back on his heels, in surprise, I think.  Then a slow grin started on his face, and amusement lit his eyes.

"Good use of your words, Ellie!  Brava!”

I blushed.  He swooped in and ravished my neck, at the same time tickling up my ribs.  I squirmed and squealed.   
   
“Tooommm!”

He lifted his head with a smile and stopped tickling me, smoothing his hands over my skin instead.  He looked delighted at my flushed and disheveled state.

“Ellllieee!” He teased back.  "There are no wrong answers, love!  But I promise not to lay verbal traps for you.”

“Thank you.”   
   
I’m kind of…thrilled at how easy Tom made it for me to ask.  For a second I was afraid he was just going to laugh me off, but he actually listened to me and agreed with good humor.  He’s beaming at me with approval.

“I love watching you.  I love touching you.  I love how you feel, Ellie, how you think, how you create.”  Mischief quirked his lips. “I especially love watching you cook.  And you are unutterably appealing to me when you’re cooking for me naked!”  He gently pulled my shirt off and draped it over a chair, leaving me in just my knickers.

To have all this approval showering down on me…  For the first time since forever, approval wasn’t making me want to squirm, wasn’t making me want to deflect.  I soaked it up like rain on a water starved plant.  I let it fill me up, and it felt so good.

I craned my head back to look at him, and cleared my throat of a sudden catch.  “Um.  It might not be the best idea for the girls to be swinging free over a hot stove…”

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms and ankles in a deceptively casual pose.  "Ah, but the stove isn’t on at the moment, is it darling?“  His voice deepened and darkened.  "I like looking at you.”

His finger reached out and brushed across a nipple, which instantly hardened.  I blew out a slow breath.  Ok, then.  The man wants to look?  Let ‘im look.  I smiled.  He can touch too, if he likes…  I picked up my knife and went back to work on the herbs.   
   
Tom asked what he could do to help, so I set him peeling potatoes.  Perhaps I should have given him a task that didn’t require a sharp tool.  He spent so much time watching me that I was afraid he’d do himself an injury.  I was more than a little distracted, myself!  But we managed to get through the prep without any mishaps as we chatted idly about his day and the rain.  Tom is always delicate about asking me about my sessions with Ryan, waiting for me to volunteer.  Or not.

Then it was time to cook the chicken.  While the olive oil was heating in the pan, I reached for my shirt.  No fucking way I was going to be cooking tits out over hot oil!  I paused in the act of reaching for my shirt as a thought struck.   
   
I’m not asking anyone’s permission, not even Tom’s, to wear protective clothing while doing something potentially dangerous.  No fucking way.  I snuck a glance at Tom out of the corner of my eye.  He’s back in that casual pose, leaning against the counter, beer in hand, watching me curiously.  Perhaps he’d like it if…

I picked my shirt up off the back of my chair where Tom had laid it when he took it off me, and brought it to him, handing it over.

“Would you mind?” I asked.  He straightened and set his beer down.

“Not at all, darling.”  And he gently pulled the shirt over my head and dressed me, pulling me up hard against his body and kissing me.

Tom deserves something good from me in turn for being so amazing to me.  I decide to make chocolate soufflés.  Yeah, I’m a little bit evil, too.  I’ve discovered that chocolate is his magic elixir - it turns him into a boy in nothing flat.  No matter how adult and in control he is, the prospect of any kind of chocolate pudding turns him into his most charmingly boyish and playful self.

After I got our dinner cooking, I started putting together the ingredients for the soufflés, not saying anything about it, just humming along with Norah Jones as I worked.    
I watched Tom from the corner of my eye.  He was sitting at the table doing something with his tablet, probably checking email, occasionally tapping out a response as he drank his beer.  Every now and then I noticed him look up and rest his eyes on me, watching my movements as he contemplated what he’d read, or planned how to respond.

If I sometimes 'accidentally’ dropped a spoon, or spilled on the floor and had to bend over to mop up…well.   It’s nice to be appreciated.  And Tom never fails to appreciate!  
He perked up when I pulled the french cocoa out of the cupboard.  I watched from the corner of my eye as he took notice.  Three…two…one.  Yep.

Tom was out of his chair and his arms wrapped around my waist from behind, his chin hanging over my shoulder, his breath warming my neck as I assembled the soufflés.  It’s a little hard to concentrate with Tom kissing my neck and nibbling at my ear.  

I wriggled loose of his arms to pop them in the oven in their bain-marie.  The moment I closed the oven door and set the timer, he had me pinned up against the counter, his hands wrapped in my hair and his mouth on mine, tongue curling past my lips.

I felt him reach past me, and then his cool, moist fingertip traced a line of chocolate batter down my neck.  Releasing my mouth, he put his chocolate-y finger between my lips, pushing in and watching as I licked his finger clean, his eyes dilated and lustful.  Withdrawing his finger, he tilted my chin up and began to lick the chocolate smear from my neck, nibbling and humming along the way.

“How long 'til dinner, Ellie?”  He murmured into my skin.

"About three quarters of an hour…”

“Hmm,” he stood back, watching me as he obviously contemplated what he could get up to in the time, a glint of mischief and a naughty smile lurking on his lips.  He leaned forward and whispered.

“Run.”

My eyes shot to his, my breath catching.  He wants to play ‘chase me’?  Oh, yes!  A laugh bubbled up out of me as I turned to run, and he landed a blazing smack on my backside, making me shriek and leap forward.  I caught a glimpse of him with his arms folded, leaning against the table as I scampered out of the kitchen giggling.

He’s giving me a head start?  Well, ok then!  I made a fast turn into the lounge, looking to put something between us, darting behind the sofa just as he prowled into the room, a predatory gleam in his eyes.  He’s not chasing me, he’s stalking me!

The laugh died in my throat, and my mouth went instantly dry, a shiver running up my spine at his look.  Jeez louise.  This is unexpectedly making me…hot.  Wet.  My nipples bunched hard as a thrill ran over my body, leaving goose pimples in it’s wake.  Tom did not fail to notice.  His look became even more intent on me.

I edged away around the other side of the sofa as he prowled after me, keeping the thing between us.  I scooted quickly across the room and through the doorway, doubling back to the kitchen.  I scrambled to get around the table and chairs, wondering if I ought to dive under and hide.  I heard his measured slow footfalls in the hall pause, deciding if I’d gone right toward my bedroom, or left to the kitchen.

I brushed against one of the chairs as I jiggled in indecision, causing it to scrape over the floor with a small squeak.  His footsteps turned toward the kitchen.  My heart is beating fast, up a notch when I catch sight of him.

He paces into the room, stalking around the table as I edge away.  I took off down the hallway and jumped through my bedroom door, glancing around frantically for a hiding place.  Or an ambush?  No, that’s a bloody damn silly idea…  But if I tuck myself behind the door and wait until he comes through I might be able to slip behind him and go to ground somewhere in the lounge.

My heart speeds up again, thumping so loudly in my ears that I can barely hear his steps approaching.  I clasp a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the sound of my panting.  I can’t believe how excited I’ve become, shivering in anticipation of eluding him again.

Tom steps into the room, pausing as his eyes search for sign of me, but he hasn’t turned and seen me yet.  I wait, tension ratcheting up, and he takes another step into the room.

Suddenly, in a burst of movement, his arm shoots out, grabbing my shoulder as I screamed in startlement.

“Gotcha.  Not getting away this time, beautiful girl.” he growled.  “You’re mine, now!”

My mind scrabbles as I struggle, his grip unrelenting, small excited noises erupting from my throat.

His eyes blaze at me.  “I’m going to fuck you now, darling.”  Sometimes the way he looks at me makes me think he wants to swallow me whole, and not even spit out the bones.  He lifts and carries me to my bed, turning me and pushing my head slowly down to the mattress, my heart hammering, firmly putting my body into the position he desires.  He drags his hands down my back and over my arse, dipping lower and spreading my thighs.

As he pushes into me, oh hard, hard, my heart pumps blood into my head so hard, my entire brain is pulsing with his thrusts.  I can hear nothing but the pounding of my own heart’s blood in my ears, feel nothing but the push and pull of his cock in and out of me.  Holy mother of god.  His hand slides up my back and neck into my hair, and he pulls me up, pulls me back, pressing my body to his as he thrusts into me, holding my face tilted to the ceiling as his other hand changes from a teasing touch on my clit to a firm pinch.  I scream, oh god, and go off like the rocket I was meant to be, hurtling into the blazing, blinding light.

Tom groans as he fucks me through my orgasm. “Fuck, Ellie, you feel so damn good… god yes…”

He dropped us both down from our knees onto the bed and cries out as he comes, his hips driving into me, driving the breath out of me with each thrust, until he came to rest on me, fully engulfing me for a minute.  So warm.  Cherished.

Cooking was pretty anticlimactic after that, but as I cooked I mulled over the no-shirt thing.  I’m a bit surprised.  When did I come to be so comfortable in my own skin?  I mean it’s a pretty odd thing to be nine-tenths naked while cooking, or anything else, especially in front of someone.  But I hadn’t even blinked, much, when Tom had removed my shirt.  I’d just gone about what I needed to do, and I’d entirely forgotten about being mostly nude while I worked.  
Even when I caught Tom’s mesmerised stare at my swaying tits as I chopped vegetables, I hadn’t felt self-conscious.  Well ok, I was a little smug about his distraction, but not embarrassed at all.  

I’d lost a few more pounds over the last months, but not enough to really change the shape of my body.  My arse and thighs still look enormous to my eye, not to mention my tits.  The double chin is going at last, but I think I’ll be stuck with the round cheeks for life.  I’m never going to exactly be a pin-up girl, and I certainly don’t resemble one now.  I sigh.

But the thing is…  Tom likes to look at my body.  He has an obvious appreciation for it, and demonstrates it frequently.  That makes all the difference.  At least when it’s just Tom.

Going out with him is another story.  He’s so damn beautiful that he attracts the lingering attention of every woman when he steps through a doorway.  And the sneering looks cast my way when they realize I’m with him?  God.  It pisses me off every time.  Can’t any of those women be happy for him? I mean, if Tom likes me, who are they to judge?    
And excuse me, but why the fuck are they mad at me??  Shouldn’t it be Tom they’re annoyed with?  I obviously wouldn’t be next to him if he hadn’t invited me!  I shook my head.  Fans are weird.

I set dinner on the table and as we were sitting down Tom got that look in his eye.  Uh oh, what now?

“Come here please, Ellie.”  Oh, here we go…  I sent a longing glance at our hot meal, wondering if it would be stone cold by the time Tom has accomplished whatever mischief he has in mind.  I stood and went to him, standing in front of his chair, watching him warily.

“You’re dressed much too informally for this lovely meal, darling.  A tee-shirt is definitely not appropriate wear.  Here.  Let me take care of that for you…”  And he peeled my shirt off once again.  He stood and took my elbow in a gentlemanly fashion, conducted me back to my seat and held my chair for me.  Damn.  Ok then, carry on, girl.

I set my serviette primly in my lap and dished food onto our plates.  I must say, the whole bare breast thing did make me much more careful about slinging hot food about.

“This looks marvelous, Ellie.”  I watched him breathe in the aromas and take his first bite, his eyes fluttering closed in bliss.  I felt ridiculously pleased that he likes it.

I admired him while we ate.  It’s…really nice that he enjoys things and isn’t afraid to show it.

Apropos of nothing, out of the blue, Tom suddenly asked,

“So, if someone handed you a million pounds today, what would you do with it?”

I blinked at Tom, bemused.  His idea of making conversation can be pretty damn strange and random.  But it’s one of the things I like about him, the challenge of keeping up with his eclectic conversation.

The man is interested in everything and anything, and seems to be able to comment intelligently on damn near anything.  One day he treated me to a random dissertation on the folly of World War 1 cavalries.  But I’m learning to take his random questions and give them due consideration.  I never know where we’ll end up, but it’s always fascinating, and nearly always entertaining.  I swallowed and wiped my mouth.

“A million quid?  Hmm.  Not much.  I’d probably give it away.”  I took a sip of my wine, considering. “Maybe start a foundation for funding education and living expenses for women who have escaped abusive relationships…”

I frowned, thinking about that, glancing up at Tom.  He sat with his eyebrows raised, a speculative look in his eyes.

“Hmm.  Sounds expensive.  How would you keep the foundation running once you’ve given your funding away?  Fancy being a professional fundraiser?”  He smirked a little, I think he already knew the answer to that last.

“Oh no, not me!  Not even a little bit!”  I grinned at him.  "But I do know this bloke who knows all the Avengers.  Bet I could talk them all into fundraising for me!“  I twitted him.  He grinned back.  

"Not just a pretty face, are you love?”  I snickered.

“Mum and Emma called this afternoon.  They’re both going to India to visit with Sarah and her family for the holidays.” he commented casually.

I froze, my breath stopping and my fork hanging, caught by surprise at the sinking of my stomach.  I set my fork down, and wiped my lips with my serviette.

“When do you leave?” I blurted out the question that I most wanted the answer to.  Tom shrugged, watching me as he swallowed the bite of chicken in his mouth, pausing.  
“I’m not.  I don’t fancy it.  I mean, I’d love to see Sarah and the kids, but I just don't fancy another long aeroplane trip.”

I felt a flush of gladness spread over my face, and felt a little guilty for it.

“I’d rather hoped,” he continued, “to get a chance to introduce you to my Mum this Christmas…” he trailed off, watching my reaction.

I looked up and blinked at him.  He wanted to introduce me to his mum?  Whatever for?  My confusion must have shone through on my face, for Tom snorted and wiped his mouth.

“I want you to meet my Mum.  I want her to meet you.” he said with a small twinkle, a laugh lurking in there somewhere.

I swallowed.  “Well, why?”

His eyebrows flew up and he sat back, regarding me.

“Because I think my Mum’s wonderful, Ellie.  And I think you’re wonderful.  Because I think the two of you would get on very well.”  He paused a moment and his face softened. “It’s not a problem for you?  She’s a very ‘motherly’ person.  I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.  I know you miss your Mum…” He opened his palm up on the table between us, inviting me to slip my hand in his.  Those long, warm fingers curled around my hand, dwarfing it.  I bit my lip as I watched his thumb circle around on the back of my wrist, forcing my gaze up to his.  
I sighed.  “It’s not a problem that she’s motherly per se…  It’s just.”  I swallowed hard.  “I’ll get attached, you see.  And when I finally exhaust this great store of patience you have for me…  I won’t just be losing you, I’ll be losing your mum, too.”

“Oh Ellie…” he breathed.  “Darling girl, I’m not leaving, far from it.  That’s not patience, that’s adoration, love.  I just wanted my Mum to meet you before I ask you to move in with me…”

My breath washed out of my lungs.  I don’t… I can’t… Oh hell.  I shook my head, something lodged in my chest.

“Are you drunk?”

Tom laughed.  “Not even a little bit.”

“So, what if she hates me?”

“Not possible.” he stated firmly.  Tom picked up my hand and brought it to his mouth, leaving a kiss on the back before resting our hands on the table.  I tugged my hand back and put it in my lap with my other, twisting my fingers together.

“But, what if she does?” I ask quietly.

“I can tell you there is no possibility that my mother will hate you, beautiful girl.”  Tom pushed my hair behind one ear and traced the curve delicately, making me shiver.

“Firstly, she will love you because you make me happy.  Secondly, she will love you because you’re smart and funny and sweet and kind, and because you’re you.   Alright?”  His head cocked to the side curiously.   "Did you not notice that I asked you to move in with me?”

“No, you didn’t.”

He looked left and right, down at himself and then back up at me.  “Pardon me, Ellie.  I’m fairly certain that I did.  I was right here at the time!”

“No, I know you didn’t because I’m sitting here with my tits all hanging out, and my hair every which way, and probably sauce on my chin! Plus you said you want me to meet your mother before you ask me!  That’s not asking, that’s an afterthought!  Can I please deal with one freak-out at a time?”  I asked a little breathlessly.

“By all means, darling.  Go right ahead.”  Tom picked up his fork and went back to his meal, smiling serenely.

“My mother is going to adore you…”


	31. Chapter 31

When I woke one morning about a week later, it was to find Tom leaning up on his elbow, his head propped on his hand, staring down at me as I slept.

A sweet, loving smile lifted his lips and he brushed a curl off my face and behind my ear, tracing the shell.  I turned my head and nuzzled my cheek into his warm hand, and smiled up at him sleepily.

“Morning, love.  How are you feeling?”

“Mmm…I think I feel…content.”

His smile widened.

“That’s good.”

“Oh look!”  I flapped my open hand.  "I no longer feel a burning desire to punch you!“

Tom laughed heartily.  "I’m very glad to hear it, darling!”

I’m actually giggling, and I feel pretty good.  It’s such a relief to feel normal.  Or…well, as normal as I ever really get.

“No panic attacks?  No nightmares?”

“I’m fine!”  I smiled at him.  Truthfully, I’d had a bit of anxiety after Tom had left when he had dropped that ‘I want you to meet my mother’ bomb a few nights ago.  And a pretty weird dream about my own mum, the details of which I thankfully don’t recall, but it woke me up and I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.  But I don’t want to tell Tom that, he’ll feel bad and blame himself, when it’s really all me…  Anyway, I am fine.

Tom slid his arm under me and rolled me on top of him, wrapping his arms over me and holding me tightly this way.  He muttered into my hair.

“I’m so glad you’re ok, Ellie.”  He squeezed me fiercely, and I felt so infinitely treasured.  And a little ashamed for not telling him everything…

“Tom?”  I squeaked on the little breath I had left, “You’re going to have to take me back to A&E to get my crushed ribs fixed…”

He tucked his chin and grinned up at me.  "You can take it, love, you’re tough…“  But he loosened his grasp and let me breathe, as he smiled gently at me.

Tom leaned up and kissed me.  Ewww.  I stiffened, knowing that my mouth must taste like the south end of a north-going horse.  Aw hell.  Tom’s kiss deepens, and he hums in enjoyment.  Ok, then.

I am not going to think about my toothbrush.  Or mouthwash.  If Tom wants to kiss me, I’m going to let him.  Besides, if it was too awful he wouldn’t still be kissing me, would he?

Tom pulled back from the kiss, eyes twinkling.  He tapped me under the chin.

"There you are.  Now, what was it that made you tighten up so?”

“Mmm, nothing.”  

I’m kind of hoping he’s going to go back to kissing me again.  I felt Tom’s attention sharpen, his body stiffen under me.  Whoops. He grasped my chin and demanded an answer.

“Look at me, Ellie.  Answer the question.”

Dammit.  His mouth is doing that thing, and the two vertical lines between his eyebrows have appeared.  That’s his 'I’m not letting this go’ look.  What?  How did this get so serious?

I wanted to shiver at that look.  He looks so fucking intense, and all that attention and stubbornness is focused on me.  But I really don’t want to tell him that my mouth tastes like arse, he’ll think I didn’t enjoy kissing him.

Tom’s hand left my chin and slid into the hair at the back of my head.  He tilted my head up a little more.  His eyes narrowed and his chin came down, he stared hard into my eyes.

“Ellie,” he warned.  I honestly don’t know what to say. That’s not intimidating at all…

I found myself nearly gasping for breath and my throat fully exposed to him.  He bent his head and nipped at that spot under my ear.  I fucking whimpered.  How pitiful is that?

“We’re not going backwards, Ellie.  We knocked that dam down, and I’m not letting you build it back up again.  You have to be able to talk to me, to confide in me…How can I take good care of you if you won’t tell me what’s going on with you?  I need you to talk to me.”  He stared down at me grimly.

Tom abruptly let go my hair and rolled me off him, pushing himself off the bed, reaching for his trousers and pulling them on quickly.  He held his hand out.  

“Come with me.”

Well, hell.  That was a command.  I put my hand in his and scrambled off the bed, my belly sinking.  Without a word, Tom turned and pulled me along behind him, through my bedroom door and into the hall.  He closed the door behind us.  Dropping my hand, he leaned against the opposite wall and ran a hand through his hair before folding his arms across his chest.

“I want to make a new rule, Ellie.  Now is your chance to discuss it…  I’ll expect you to answer me when I ask you a question.  Any question.” he said in a firm voice.  I sucked in a breath.  "You, my girl, are a mistress of evasion and misdirection.  It’s doing neither of us any good, and it stops now.  If you don’t answer me properly there will be consequences, do you understand?

I stood naked in every sense of the word before Tom, twisting my fingers together, somewhat ashamed that I had thought Tom hadn’t noticed when I evaded a question or changed the subject to avoid telling him something that I thought wouldn’t be well received.  Truthfully, I felt a little annoyed at him that he hadn’t called me on it before now.   
 …Oh right.  He had called me on it.  Shit.  I nodded.

“Verbal answers, Ellie,” he prodded.  "Tell me what you understand.“

I worked up some spit into my suddenly dry mouth.  Why is this so hard?

"You want a new rule to require me to answer any question that you ask me, and that there will be consequences for breaking the rule….”  I managed in a slightly hoarse voice.  I cleared my throat.  "Um, what consequences?“

Tom dropped his arms and stood straight, his face tightening.

"I think…the consequences will be at my discretion.”

Ok, now that doesn’t sound ominous at all…  I fidgeted nervously, crossing my arms over my chest and rubbing my arms.

“I…don’t really feel like it would be wise to agree to consequences if I don’t have any idea what they would be…” I trailed off.

Tom sighed.  "Go get dressed, Ellie.  I’ll get tea.  Meet me in the kitchen.“  He turned and walked away down the hall.

Shit.  What did I do wrong?  He’d said it was my chance to ask questions, hadn’t he?  Discuss it.  That means questions, right?  I walked back into my bedroom, casting a glance at his retreating form over my shoulder.  I’m a little freaked, to tell the truth.  I…don’t really know what happened there.

I went into the bath and washed up, brushed my teeth (at last!), pulled the half hanging hair tie out of my mess and gathered it all back up in a loose bun.  My brain tried to hunt down all the bits of our interaction this morning, trying to piece together what led to Tom suddenly issuing orders and walking away from me.  Did I upset him, somehow?

I dressed myself and glanced around the room before I left.  I started over to the bed tidy it and pull the duvet up, but changed my mind.  Tom had been pretty clear about getting dressed and meeting him in the kitchen.  He might not be too pleased if I don’t do exactly that.  I think I’m in enough trouble as it is.  I just wish I knew what it was…  
I still haven’t figured out what his problem is.  I mean, he asked me a question, and next thing I know he’s dragging me out into the hallway to demand a new rule.  What’s confusing me is that he told me to ask questions, and then refused to answer the question I had!

I froze in the act of pulling my bedroom door shut behind me, James flashing into my head.  Shit.  I dropped my hand reluctantly from the door handle and turned, heading toward the kitchen, my feet dragging.  I forced myself to stand straight and face whatever is coming like a grown-ass woman, not… a beaten cur.  Lifting my chin, I stood in the doorway of the kitchen surveying Tom.  James used to ask me trick questions.  If I got them wrong, as I invariably did, he’d have an excuse to beat on me.  If Tom’s going to play that game with me, he’s going to have a fight on his hands, Dom or not.

Tom looked up from the tea cradled in his hands where he sat at the table.  There’s a steaming cup in front of my chair.  He nodded at it.

"Sit down, Ellie.” he said calmly.

I relaxed a tiny fraction.  He doesn’t look or sound angry in any way.  But then he never really does.  He looks serious, but not brassed off.

I licked my lips and sat, watching Tom for some clue about what’s happening, waiting for whatever shoe is about to drop.

“Drink your tea, Ellie.”  Tom directed.  My eyes dropped down to my steaming mug.  I slowly wrapped both hands around my mug, my hands are so cold…  A tear slipped out of my eye and I bit my lip.  Tom’s hand dropped onto my wrist.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he asked softly.

“I wish you’d just get it over with!” I burst out.

Tom’s eyebrows twitched up as he sat back and regarded me.  "Get what over with, Ellie?  Just what do you think is happening here?“

"I don’t know, do I?  You won’t tell me!” I snapped.  Terrified or pissed off, I don’t know which.  Maybe both, dammit.

Tom took a patient breath.  "Try to answer the question, Ellie.  What do you think is happening?“

I fumed.  "Look Tom…  I did answer your question!  I don’t know!”  I breathed out hard, trying to calm myself.  "I don’t have any idea what I did wrong!  I wish you’d just tell me and do…whatever it is you’re going to do to me for it…“  I hung my head, struggling not to cry.  Tom stood and pulled me out of my chair and sat back down with me in his lap, his arms going around me.  He sighed.

"You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But…”

Tom interrupted me.  "You don’t trust me.  That’s not something you’ve done wrong.  That’s something I’ve done wrong, darling.”

Wait, what?  I looked at him like he was crazy.  That’s so off the mark…

"What??   But I do trust you, Tom, of course I do!  Why would you think that I don’t?”

He smiled faintly.  "Ellie, your first question about a new rule is about the consequences…“

I jumped in.  "But you told me that it was my chance to discuss it!”  I thought back over our conversation in the hallway.  I slumped against him.  "I’m confused.“

"Yes, you are, ” he lifted my chin.  "Darling, you barely gave any consideration to the new rule, you jumped straight to the consequences.  And when I told you that the consequences would be at my discretion, you still needed to know before you would agree to the new rule.“

"Well… why won’t you tell me what the consequences will be for breaking that rule?”

He lifted a brow.  "Why do you need to know?“

I blinked at him.  "You want me to agree to consequences without knowing what they are?”

“No, I want you to agree to a rule that you will answer my questions!”  He paused.  "Now, answer my question.  Why do you need to know what the consequences will be for breaking that rule?

I scratched my head.  "Um.  Because it doesn’t seem too smart to agree to something when I don’t know what it entails?“

"Do you think I would ever do something to you that would harm you?”

I shook my head vehemently.  "No, of course not!“

"Then tell me, why do you need to know?”

Oh.

Demanding to know about his consequences before I agree to a new rule is tantamount to telling him I don’t trust him not to hurt me?  Well…fuck.

“I’m sorry, Tom.  I…didn’t mean that I don’t trust you.  At all.”

Tom sat back and considered me.  Expressions chased themselves across his face too fast for me before settling on rueful.  "You stinker…“ he muttered under his breath.  He straightened.

"Well, if it’s not a trust issue…then it’s because you want to be able to weigh whether you’d rather follow the rule, or break it and accept the consequences.”

I coloured.  Busted. That’s exactly what I was figuring out.  Well… shit.  That’s not good.  I…hadn’t even considered following the rule, I just wanted to know what would happen when I broke it.  

I rolled my face into his chest.  "God, Tom, I don’t even know why you put up with me…“

"Well,” he teased, “you are a bit troublesome.”

He tugged on my hair and raised my face, kissing me lightly.

“But you’re worth it.  Fortunately I adore a bit of a brat.” He tweaked my nipple as he said it, making me  jump and yelp.  He sobered.

“Ellie love, I want you to agree to a rule that you will always answer my questions.  Just like every other rule, there will be consequences if you break it.  I will determine the consequences at that time.  I will always have your wellbeing in mind.  If you truly can’t bear the consequence, you have a safe word, and I expect you to use it. But I also expect you to follow the rule, Ellie.  I’m not going to tell you what the consequences are for breaking the rule because I don’t want you to just decide to choose the consequence instead of answering a difficult question.  You need to be nervous about what would happen.”  His face darkened.  "Make no mistake, Ellie.  If you break that rule, I will make sure you don’t enjoy what happens next. But I’ll never harm you.” 

He sighed.  "We can’t have secrets between us, Ellie.  I need to know what’s going on in your head.  You need to know that you can trust me with your answers. Now.  Do you agree to the rule that you will always answer my questions?”

I squirmed uncomfortably.

“It’s just…Tom…you’re asking a lot.”  I twisted my fingers.  "You’re expecting me to drop a lifelong habitual behavior in, in a heartbeat!  It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I- I don’t know if I can trust myself not to…screw this up.“ I looked pleadingly at him.

Tom paused and leaned back, regarding me.  He gives me his 'Pay attention, I’m the Dom, you’re the sub’ look.  Oh, here we go.

"In that case, darling, I’ll make the decision for you.  I trust you.” he says strongly.  "You can learn to trust yourself.  Unless you say 'red’ right now Ellie, you’re going to accept the new rule, and you’re going to do your best to honor it.  Have a little faith in yourself, sweetheart, you can do it.“

I sat with my mouth hanging open, staring at him.  Really??  Just like that he takes the decision away from me?!  I feel a little spike of adrenaline race through me.  I thought I should be angry at his high-handedness, but somehow I couldn’t work up the necessary emotion.

Tom’s finger pushes under my chin, closing my mouth.

"Say 'red’, or accept the rule, Ellie.” he says firmly, staring down into my eyes.   
   
Well.  That’s not intimidating at all.  I shiver, my eyes flicking between his and I nodded.

“I want to hear you, Ellie,” he demanded sternly.  "Say it.“

"Ellie.” he warns.

“Alright, yes.  I’ll accept your new rule.”  I mutter. I don't have to actually be happy about it, do I?

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  A smile lurking on his lips, the bastard, I thought affectionately.  Sometimes it’s really hard not to like him.  A laugh ghosts from my mouth.

I resist the very great urge to roll my eyes when I looked back at him.  I can tell that he knows I want to.

“Um, yes?”

Tom chuckled.  Oh great.  I can see that this was going to provide endless entertainment for him.  Oh well.  At least I have some entertainment value.  I blew a couple of loose curls off my forehead, slightly exasperated.

"Now, what was that about?” He asked with a grin.

I snorted, shook my head, and made to stand.  As if he doesn’t know.  He caught my hand and held me there.

“I asked you a question, Ellie.”  And so it starts…

I huffed.  "I think you’re going to enjoy tormenting me with questions entirely too much.“  I scrunched my nose at him in an exaggerated pout.

Tom laughed.  "Oh yes, darling, I think I will!”

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You understand, this is a work in progress… I decided I’m not happy with Tom asking her to do the whole meet the mother, moving in thing (yet).  So, Tom is giving Ellie the grace period she asked for.  Oh, and I wrote about Alan originally last year, before we lost him…

I was right about Tom enjoying tormenting me with questions, but the vast majority of them were fairly routine.  He wanted to know my favorite food (almost any kind of cheese- but not the excessively stinky ones).  He wanted to know how I like my eggs (Scrambled dry, with onions and tomatoes- never runny eggs!  Ick.)

“What’s your favorite colour, Ellie?” he asked curiously one afternoon, out of nowhere, looking at me over his book.

I looked up over my own book and blinked at him.  He didn’t know?  I gestured around my lounge.  Aside from the milk chocolate leather of my sofa and the stained wood of the floors and bookcases, nearly every bit of it was blue. 

“I might be a little partial to blue.”  I grinned at him.

He smirked at me.  “Yes, but what shade of blue?” he asked patiently.

“Um, all of ‘em?  It doesn’t matter.  I just like blue.”  I shrugged.  “What’s your favorite colour?”

Tom leaned toward me and put his hand on my cheek, turning my face toward the warm late afternoon sunlight pouring in my front window.  He studied me a moment, his head cocked to the side consideringly.

“Silver.  Definitely silver.”

I huffed and tried to push his hand away.  “Ridiculous man!  And my eyes aren’t silver, they’re plain old grey, neither this nor that.  No proper colour for eyes, anyway!”

He gripped my chin firmly, refusing to let me move away.  “Not true, Ellie.  In the sunlight your eyes turn a striking silver.  With that dark grey ring around your iris, they’re arresting.  The most stunningly beautiful silver eyes…”  And with that, he kissed me.

That was the first time that I’d really turned his question back on him, instead of just answering his random question.  He’d seemed very pleased, so I started asking him to answer the same questions in turn.  I was interested, after all, and it seemed like a good opportunity to learn about him as well…

Sprinkled occasionally among the little, simple, unimportant questions were a few more serious ones.  He asked about my childhood memories, about my Dad leaving us. About my Mum’s illness and how I’d coped with it.  Things that I didn’t particularly want to recall, never mind talk about.  But somehow he made it ok.  He made it safe.  He was patient and comforting when I cried as I told him about the day Mum died, how lost and alone I had been.  How I’d seriously considered killing myself after that.  How Rani had been the one to convince me to keep living…

He didn’t ask me any more about Michael.  I think it was too emotionally fraught for him.  I was grateful that he didn’t.  There was only so much I could say about that, and I’d already gone way past my limit.

I learned more about him, things I’d never even considered asking about.  He told me about his childhood dog, a sheepdog confusingly named Rabbit.  He talked more about the day his little mate was knocked down and killed, how confused he was by the funeral, how it terrified him to see the boy’s mother crying.  He told me about desperately trying to comfort his baby sister when his parents had announced their imminent divorce, and how bewildered and lonely he’d been at being sent off to board at Eton.  He told me about his let down and how aimless he’d felt after graduating Uni.  How he’d applied to RADA almost as a lark, and how acting had captured his soul.  He asked me about my evolution from a first in Architecture to kitchen design.

One day after a lively discussion of our favorite children’s books, I sat back and regarded him.  He looked excited and engaged.  Finally I asked him.

“Why does any of this stuff matter to you?  Why do you need to know my favorite colour, or what I think about Harry Potter?”

“I want to know about you, love.  I want to know what you think, and how you feel.”

“But…why?”

He looked at me, at my bewilderment.  Leaning his forehead against mine, he said, “Because you matter to me, Ellie.  You, your experiences, your likes and dislikes are important to me.  You’re important to me…”

Ok, well.  That’s nice.  But it really doesn’t answer why he cared one way or the other.  I pulled away looked at him skeptically.

Tom’s eyes narrowed.  Then he answered the question I hadn’t known I was asking.

“Because you’re more than a…a vagina to me, love.”  I jerked in shock at his blunt words.  

“You’re a whole person, and I want to know the whole person, how could I not?  You have more to give than just good…no!  Great sex.  You’re interesting.  I feel good when I’m with you.  My enjoyment of you is not just physical.  You make me happy.”

His blue eyes probed me, skating over my expression, gauging my reaction to that.  I sat back stunned.  I make him happy?

“You’re a very warm, comforting woman, beautiful girl…  Even on my worst days, I walk in your door, and I feel welcome just as I am.  You don’t expect me to perform for you.  I relax when you’re near.  I adore eating the soup that you made because you refuse to eat take-away while we watch a film, or read.  I love that you’ll discuss philosophy in the bathtub with me… I love that you curl up on my chest while I read aloud, even when it’s just some silly newspaper blurb or idiocy in a script I’m reviewing.  I love this…” he pulled a loose curl off my neck, “ all these tendrils and ringlets that inevitably come loose from your hair tie and trail down your neck.  It’s very fetching- my very own Elizabeth Bennet.”

“And who would Mr. Darcy be?”  I grinned, challenging him.  I thought for sure he’d nominate himself, but he surprised me.  He pursed his lips and looked thoughtfully at me.

 “Hmm.  Alan Rickman, I think.”  He raised his eyebrow, waiting for my reaction.

I choked.  Alan Rickman??  As Mr. Darcy to my Elizabeth Bennet?  Fuck. Me.  Um..  I blew out a breath, and blinked up at him innocently.   
   
“I suppose he would be…acceptable.” I said as judiciously as I could, pursing my lips. I might have pulled it off if I hadn’t been blushing furiously.

That wicked Hiddleston grin crept onto his face.  “Rickman, hmm?”

“Well,” I teased, “it isn’t Alan, so much as it was the Sheriff of Knottingham!  Damn, he was fucking hot, all power and prowling cat-like grace…”  Shit.  This is not helping my blush go away.

Tom leaned in and murmured into my ear, “I can help you with that…”

I yanked my head back and stared at him.  Tom's talent for impersonations had manifested itself. Alan Rickman had spoken in my ear.  Shit!  I snapped my mouth shut so I’d stop gaping at him like the village idiot.  

Putting my hand on Tom’s chest, I said, “Wait.  Please.” thinking rapidly. “Um, do you know Alan Rickman?”

He shrugged.  “I’ve met him.  Had several long conversations with him, but we’re not best mates or anything.  He’s brilliant.”

“Then, um…can you not?  I don’t know, but something there squicks me right out…”

“Can you tell me what that is, Ellie?”

I shook my head.  “I don’t…really know.  Maybe because there is some small chance that I might actually meet him one day?  It would be very weird for me to meet him after you…"  I thought about that for a second.   
   
“Yeah, no.  Thank you, but no, ok?”

“Alright darling, if you wish.”  His mouth twitched.  He waggled his eyebrows and took an imaginary cigar out of his mouth, and Groucho Marx asked me if there were any other individuals I’d like him to remove from his play list.  He did eventually make me stop laughing.

***  
I was in my home office working late one afternoon.  Well, by working I mean that I was dancing around in a tee shirt and knickers with my earbuds in as I played around with design elements.  I was having a grand old time, jumping around and singing badly.  I realized I wanted my other set of watercolor pencils and spun around from my drafting table toward my desk behind me.

I slammed into a hard body and fell back with a piercing scream, my heart trying to leap out of my chest.  Hard hands swiftly reached out and grabbed my arms to prevent my falling backward over my drafting table.

“Shit!  Tom!” I yanked my earbuds out.  “You scared the crap out of me!”  I was panting, and my heart was thumping hard.

His face was… This was not irritated or annoyed Tom.  This was thoroughly pissed off Tom.

I grasped his wrists.  “What’s wrong??”  I asked urgently.  “Tom, are you alright?”

“Your front door was unlocked.  Again, Ellie.”

Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  Shit!

Tom’s expression was very controlled.  But his mouth was doing that thing, and there was a flame deep in his blue eyes that said to me ‘you are in deep trouble!’  
I clamped my lips shut.  Now might not be a good time to talk…  I stared at the floor.  Don’t antagonize the Dom.  Uh, uh. Nope, nope, nope.

Tom was silent, just standing there.  I dared a glance up at him.  Oh fuck.  A frisson ran up my spine.  I squeezed my eyes shut.  If I can’t see him, he can’t see me, right?  Shit.  If only it worked that way in real life.  I could feel a flush running up my chest, warming my skin all the way up.  Damn.

”…damn.“  I froze, realising in horror that I’d whispered that word aloud.

Tom took a step closer to me, very, very much into my personal space, his chest brushing against my breasts with every breath.  Looming over me.  Somehow my breath came even faster.

Tom’s hand tipped my chin up to look into my face.  It took me a moment to steel myself to raise my eyes to his, but I knew he expected it.

“Enough, Ellie.  This has to stop.” He grimaced.  “Go to your room.  I’ll be in shortly.”  Tom directed quietly but firmly.

I stared at him, my mouth open, arms wrapped around myself.  A shiver of pure dread slid down my spine and all the saliva in my mouth dried.  I could actually feel my heart bounding in my chest.

I searched his eyes, trying to name the multiple combination of emotions there.  There was anger there, oh yes.  Determination.  Apprehension.  And sorrow.

My eyes filled at that.  My heart ached.  I swallowed hard and nodded, turning to go.

I knew that I deserved this.  I broke my word.  I had been thoughtless, and careless, and stupid…

I took more than several turns around the middle of the room, pacing out my anxiety and my remorse.  This was the third or fourth time that Tom had rebuked me for leaving my door unlocked.  I’d promised that I’d be more careful, but… I guess I'd never really worried about it.  Dammit, I can take care of myself!  I have done on several occasions…  I guess I always figured he was being ridiculous, over-protective.

Hearing my bedroom door open at last, I turned to look.  I came to a complete halt, damn near leaving a foot in the air and my mouth hanging open. Good god, he’s so…  I shook my head.  I knew perfectly well what he was here for, how could his beauty be the first thing that came to mind?

He was leaning against the door jamb, folding his sleeve up one forearm, and one knee cocked, staring at me with a certain deceptively relaxed demeanor.  I turned to fully face him.

“I’m really sorry, Tom.  I didn’t think…”  He nodded, cutting me off.

Tom spoke, his voice low and controlled.  "Take your clothes off, Ellie.”

Well, that doesn’t sound too bad…

I nodded, pulling my tee shirt off.  I glanced up at Tom.  His mouth firmed and his chin jerked at me.

“Yes, Tom.”  I whispered.  He made a silent gesture at my body, urging me to continue to undress.  I stood for a moment before him in my bra and knickers, thankful that I’d worn the sheer pink set that he likes so much.  Maybe it would lessen whatever diabolical thing he was planning.  I glanced up at him.  Yeah, no.  There goes that chin again.  I pulled my bra and knickers off.

I glanced up again, seeing his pupils wide and eyes darkened.  He slowly straightened and began to lazily stalk me, his eyes hooded.  Fuck!  I took an involuntary step back before I got control of the impulse to turn and run. This was not a game, and running would not work out well for me, I knew.  But damn, it was so hard to stand still. I clenched my fists at my sides and closed my eyes tight, trying to stay rooted to the floor.  He’s deliberately making me anxious.  I know it.

Tom circled me, running a finger across my waist and around my back as he went.  Twice.  Very slowly.  I could hear him breathing, drawing breath in through his nose deeply. I shivered.  Shit.  

Tom came to a halt behind my back and pulled me to him, the fingers of one hand curling around the flare of my hip, and the other curling around my throat..  His body seemed to curve around me from behind, and his head dropped down over my shoulder to my neck and collarbone.  He kissed me at the top of my shoulder, and sucked my skin fiercely into his mouth. I whimpered, flinching.  It hurt.  No teeth, but there would be a livid mark there, nonetheless.  He took a deep, slow inhale.

“You broke your promise to me, Ellie,” he growled.  “Worse, you’ve neglected your own safety.  You had no idea that I was there, I could have been anyone!”  The hand he had curled around my hip tightened.  “If I’d been someone with bad intent, I could have subdued you before you even knew I was there.  I have no doubt that you can defend yourself, I’ve seen you do it!  But you didn’t even try, love.  You should have put me on my arse before you even knew it was me.”

He was right. I hung my head.

He stood back and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and holding a hand out to me.  "Come here, Ellie.“  His voice was deeper and darker than I’ve yet heard it.  
I swallowed, and I crossed to take his hand, dread gripping my throat.  This was really going to happen.  Tom was really going to punish me.  In a really, completely, not good way.  Oh fuck.  I found my hands shaking.  I really was terrified of this.  

Tom.  This is Tom, I reminded myself.

Tom’s hand pulled me closer, to stand next to his legs on his right.  "Put yourself across my lap, Ellie,” he commanded quietly.

Very reluctantly, I did as I was told.  This was new to me.  He who must not be named had always preferred to bend me over a piece of furniture whenever he wanted to beat on me, presumably so that he could get a better swing in.  

I felt very awkward, I didn’t know where anything went! Where should I put my hands?  How do I rest my weight??

“Tom?”  I muttered, “Please help me?  I, I don’t know how…?”  I floundered, tears of apprehension choking me.

God, I couldn’t even get this right.  Fuck!  Tears spilled, and I swallowed hard.  Tom gently helped situate me across his legs, tipping me farther forward than I’d expected.  His damn legs were so long that only my toes and fingertips were balancing me over the floor.

Tom pulled me closer, smoothing his hand down the back of my thigh.  He reached down and picked up my right hand, bringing it around to my lower back, then did the same with my other hand.  He secured both wrists in his left hand.  His hand felt enormous. Gigantic.  All encompassing, as if he had engulfed my entire body, not just my hands.

My god, I was dangling over his lap, completely unbalanced, feeling like I was going to pitch forward onto my face!

He widened his knees a bit and my toes were lifted completely off the floor.  I was helpless and utterly dependent on Tom to keep me from splattering face first on the floor.  

Holy crap.

Tom smoothed his free hand over my derrière.  "God, you’re beautiful,“ he murmured.  "I can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you…”  He smoothed down my other side as well.  I shivered at his touch.  He cleared his throat.

“Ellie.  You must remember to lock your door, every time.” He stated very calmly.  "There will be no more forgetting, do you understand me?“

If my face weren’t already beet red from dangling upside down over his knee, my blush would have been apparent.  I’m so humiliated that I had forgotten my promise to him.

"Your safety is very important to me.”  His voice was firm, no nonsense.

“Yes, Tom.”  I barely managed to strangle the words out.  I was getting short of breath, I didn’t know if it was nervousness, or the fact that his knee was in my ribs and all my weight was resting there.

“I will not allow you to heedlessly jeopardize yourself.  Count.”

Suddenly his hand left my skin and reconnected solidly.  I yelped.  “One!” Oh god.  That smarts! It was awful, but it was not too awful.  Not anywhere on the scale of what the arsehole used to do to me.

That hard hand landed on the other cheek with a resounding smack.  I yelped again, and not just  because of the sting.  The force of the blow had tipped me a little more precariously forward.  I tried to squirm back a bit.

"Don’t move, Ellie.  Count!” he growled at me.

“T-two!”

“Good girl.”  The next blow came over both cheeks, and sent me farther over his knee.  My head was completely hanging now, I couldn’t even hold it up.  God, this was embarrassing.  Humiliating.

“Three!”

The only thing holding me up was Tom’s grip on my wrists, and his thigh under my belly.  Fuck.   The next spanks were harder and came faster until we reached “Ten!”, which I nearly screamed.  Ow, ow, ow!

Tom’s hand began to soothe my insulted skin, rubbing the sting away.  He was rubbing the sting away, I realised, but increasing the heat of my skin with his rubbing.  As I said, diabolical.

Then, oh then, damned if he didn’t deliver another fast five stinging swats.  I screamed at the suddenness, the pain blotting out everything in that moment.  And then it was over.

Releasing my wrists, Tom pulled me swiftly up, deftly flipping me over to hold me against his chest, his arm under my shoulders and neck, supporting me.  His other hand was gently wiping away the tears I hadn’t noticed were spilling over my cheeks.

I looked up into his gentle, worried blue eyes, surprised to find them distinctly watery and reddened.

“I’m sorry Tom.”  My voice choked a bit.

“Oh love, take better care of yourself for me…please…?  I couldn’t bear it if some awful person got in here and hurt you!”

It was the first thing he’d said tonight with any hint of plea, but it totally undid me.  I began to sob.

"I’m sorry!  I’m sorry! I promise, Tom, I promise!  I’ll never ever forget again!  I’m sorry!”  I wailed like a little child, all the while utterly bewildered at these feelings, this reaction to his words.  Why did his words have so much more impact than the spanking?  

“Shh, hush now, Ellie.  I know.  It’s all over, shhh…”  He continued to comfort me until my tears were spent.  I lay in his arms, utterly wiped out.  Tom sat with me, holding me and stroking me silently, watching me carefully.  Eventually, he stood with me in his arms and turned to lay me down on the bed, gently on my belly.  After one last caress, he strode off into the bath and returned with a bottle of my lotion and a flannel.

Tom tenderly wiped my face with the cool flannel, laying it across my eyes.  He sat next to me and pumped some lotion into his palm, applying the cool stuff to my burning, abused bum, working it gently into my skin, leaning down and leaving a kiss between my shoulder blades.  He put the lotion back and left the room.  

A minute later he was back with a couple of water bottles.  Setting them on the bedside table, he striped off and brought us both under the covers.  He pulled me up onto his chest and reached for a water bottle.

“Drink, sweet girl,” he says, nudging my lips with the bottle.  I took several thirsty swallows.

“Good girl.”

“Thank you, Tom.” I whispered.

He smiled and kissed my forehead.  His face sobered.

“How’s your back, darling?  Alright?”

I sniffled a bit.  "It’s my arse that hurts!“

He chuckled.  "Good.  It’s supposed to!  But your back?  I didn’t hurt it?”

“I think it’s fine…  Everything seems to be in working order…” I answered him.

“Good, ” he nuzzled into my hair.  "I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you…“

I started to snicker.  He was plucking all the irony strings right now.  My giggles escalated into outright laughter, and Tom joined in.

My eyes drifted heavily shut, I was exhausted, the emotions of the day grinding down on me, talking their toll.

 

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

I know it’s weird, but I did it anyway. I feel like I’m jumping out of my skin.  I went and sat under my drawing table, wrapping my arms around my knees, and immediately felt better.  Well, maybe not better, but at least not like I’m going to fly apart any second.  I need to think. 

I realised that I had never really taken Tom seriously as…as an authority figure over me.  I just blithely went along with whatever he asked in order to keep him happy, without ever really considering that I had given him the power to correct my behavior if I disobeyed.  Because I’m a ‘good girl’, after all. I like rules.  Rules make me feel safe.  What need would Tom ever have to punish me?

I hadn’t really considered that I had discounted his concerns, ignored his warnings, simply because he had never needed to enforce his will.  Is it weird that I feel…cherished, now that he has? Was I unconsciously testing his will?

Yesterday… Nobody had ever punished me that way before. James… hadn’t punished me for any real infraction, he just liked to hit me and excuse it as punishment. Dad couldn’t be bothered.  Mum… Mum would make me sit in the kitchen chair for hours (not really, it only seemed like it at the time) for infractions. Aunt Patricia had just bitched at meand run me down. But nobody had ever physically corrected me.  Tom is the only one who has ever cared enough..?

”What are you doing under there, Ellie?“  Tom stood in the doorway of my office, looking curiously at me where I sat, under my drafting table, my knees drawn up and my arms folded across them.  I guess I must have looked pretty strange.  I just needed a small space in which to think.  Thinking in a small space makes me feel…safe.  Well, it’s what I do, anyway.

"Thinking…”

He got down on the floor without hesitation,  and crawled under my drafting table with me, wrapping an arm around me.  I felt a knot of tension loosen with the contact.  I hadn’t realised that my shoulders were hunched up around my ears until they relaxed at Tom’s touch.

“What are you thinking about?” He inquired softly.

“You, mostly.”  Now it was his turn to tense up.

“Come to any conclusions?” he asked.  That eyebrow arched up.

"I don’t know.  Maybe?  I’m just trying to figure out how I feel about…well, that.”  I tipped my finger towards my bedroom.  "And I’m trying to find the right words to explain it to myself.“

"Mmm.  Why do you need to explain it?  It’s over now.  That - punishing you, ” he cleared his throat, “is not really what I want you dwelling on…  It’s supposed to bring the lesson home, clear the air, and let us move on.”

“See, that’s the thing.  With James…”  I glanced up apologetically, watched his mouth do that thing, “I never… I tried really hard NOT to think about what was happening.  It was scary.  Terrifying, really.  But last night… I wasn’t… I’m not afraid of you.”

“Well.  That’s good.  I really don’t want you to be afraid of me… I just need to know that you’re keeping safe.“  His brow furrowed. I bit my lip.

"It feels like I shouldn’t make the mistake of not thinking again, though.  I need to process it.  Not let it fester.  No, fester isn’t the right word.  I’m trying to find the right words… Last night… It feels really big, but not.”  I fumbled around for the words to express this.  "With him it always felt too enormous.  No.  Too dangerous to think about.  But.  If I’d been courageous enough to put what he was doing to me in perspective, in context?  I might have figured out much earlier what a bad mis-match we were.  I…I failed myself.  And I failed him by refusing to process it when he…beat me.“

Tom winced.

"That…the relationship didn’t fail because he was an abusive prick.  I didn’t really figure that out until after.  I failed because I was too afraid to think about it, so I didn’t call him on it.  It failed because we were a poor match, because neither of us could acknowledge that.  He needed someone…much stronger than me.  I think he felt…frustrated with me.  That I didn’t react to him the way he expected, the way he needed me to.”

“Darling, I don’t like to hear you talk about yourself in terms of failure.”  He admonished sternly.

“I know.  But you asked!  I have to figure this thing out, and I can’t do it out there.”  I gestured out at the rest of the world.  "That’s kinda why I’m under the table.“  I bit my lip and whispered,  "You’re in my space…”

“Do you want me to leave?”  

“No!  No, Tom, please don’t go!”  I was nearly frantic, a bubble of panic welling up at the idea that he thought that I don’t want him here.  Or that he’ll leave me…

“See, this is why I’m under here.  Please don’t misunderstand!  I have to find the right words!  Please, please don’t go!”  I smeared the tears off my face.  "You keep telling me to use my words, but I don’t know what they are yet!  I’m only trying to figure that out…“

Tom’s face softened and he nodded.  "Yes, alright.  I understand, Ellie.”  His arm tightened around me and he kissed my forehead.

“I’m sort of trying to process two relationships right now.  It’s …it’s fucking overwhelming, Tom!  It feels like I have to figure out how I feel about my last relationship in order to figure out how I feel about this one.  And that’s a lot of feels, you know?   I don’t want to make the same mistakes - but I have to know what those mistakes were if I’m to avoid making them again!  I mean, right?”

Tom sat back and looked at me, considering.  He leaned in and brushed a kiss on my cheek.  

“Smart girl.”

Tom bumped his head on the underside of the table as he sat back and swore, rubbing his head.  I looked at him and realised how much he’d had to fold himself up to follow me under here.  God, I hope that’s not a metaphor.  I’m trying to make myself bigger, not make him smaller…

“So I need to be alone to think about all this, but it’s kinda scary.  I feel…safer that you’re nearby.”

“Ok, love.  I’m going to get out of here and let you finish your thinking.”  He started to crawl out from under the table.  I grabbed his arm.  

“Tom?  I just…I just want you to know how… happy I am that you’re not…him.”  I shrugged, a little embarrassed to be saying it.

Tom grinned at me, crawled back and kissed me fiercely.

"Good to know!”  With a parting smile, he backed the rest of the way out and stood.  He bent over and his face came into view.

“Can I get you a pillow?  Or a cup of tea while you cogitate?”

“Nope.  I’m good.  Thank you, Tom.”  I smiled at him and he stood up, rapped the table top smartly with his knuckles and turned away.

“Tom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“You’re not leaving, right?”  I asked in a smaller voice than I’d intended.

“No chance, love!  Just don’t stay under there all day, right?  There are still a few things I want to do to you…“  His amused evil chuckle faded down the hallway.  

I laughed.  At the same time a shiver went down my spine and lodged in my bits.  See, that’s why I can’t think…

I squirmed, remembering the anxiety I had felt before he put me over his knee.  I hadn’t been afraid of Tom. I don’t really understand how his spanking had made me feel…loved?  

Tom cared enough to enforce a rule designed to keep me safe, for my benefit…whereas James only hit me for his pleasure?  It’s been a very long time since someone cared that much about what's good for me.

And then I started to think about the other thoughts I’d been putting off…

 

Tom was sitting on the sofa when I came into the lounge, reading his iPad, a cup of tea at his elbow..  I didn’t give myself any more time to think, to second guess myself.  I went to him and stood between his widespread knees, almost holding my breath.

He looked at me curiously as I looked at him, feeling like I might hyperventilate at my own audacity.  Tom set his iPad aside and held a hand up to me silently inviting me.  I put my hand in his and he pulled me to straddle his lap, sitting on his thighs with my knees bent to either side of his hips on the sofa.

He cupped my cheek, sliding his thumb back and forth across my cheek bone.  I took a deep breath and leaned my upper body against him, my head resting under his jaw, and my hands curled up under my chin.

He slipped his arms around me and I heard him take a deep breath, his body relaxing under mine.  I could feel my own tension drain out of me as well.  After a moment of stillness, I felt his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“I guess we’re both walking on eggshells a bit, aren’t we darling?”  I simply nodded my head, incidentally rubbing my cheek against his linen clad shoulder, breathing in the scent rising off his skin.  How does someone smell like caring?

Tom leaned back, tucked his chin, and looked down at me lying against his chest.  “How are you doing, love?  Did you figure things out?”

I nodded.  “I’m ok.  I guess I got some things worked out…  Thank you, Tom.  For the space.  And for…caring enough about me to do…that.  I can’t really remember the last time someone cared enough about my welfare that… I know you didn’t want to spank me.  But you did anyway.  And it’s what I needed to make me acknowledge that…that my behavior was hurting you.”  

He opened his mouth, already denying, when I put my fingers over his mouth stopping his words.  “And you were right.  I live in the city and it’s bloody reckless to not pay attention to the security of my home.  I’m really sorry I put you through that.  I won’t leave my door unlocked again.”

“Thank you, Ellie.”  He kissed my forehead.  “I believe you.  Now…did you come to any other conclusions that you’re ready to share with me?”  My heart lurched.  This is the really scary part…

“Can…can I…?”  Shit, why is this so damn hard?  Ask for what I want, right?

Tom waited so patiently while I figured it out.  I buried my head in his chest and breathed deep.  Is it what I want?  Or need?  Breathing my own exhalations against his chest, I gripped his biceps convulsively, and bit my lip.  I needed to explain, but I couldn’t  look at him while I did.

Somehow, I think I do need to know.  Am I just…submissive because I’ve never really had a relationship, or a man, who would let me take what I want?  All I’ve ever really known is …being told what to do.  Is there even such a thing as being submissive simply because I’ve never really had the opportunity to be anything else?

I mean, the relationships I’ve had with men, every one of them, have all put me in the subordinate position.  The submissive position.  But what if I’m only submissive because I’ve never known anything else?

I gathered my nerve, and blurted out my reasoning.

“…so I need to know, right?”

Tom pushed my chin up, his head tilted, and looked at me curiously.

“Darling girl, are you saying you want to try topping me?”  I swear there’s a tiny smile lurking in his eyes, somewhere, but I can’t pinpoint exactly how I know.  Maybe a certain tension around his eyes?  I buried my head back in his chest, suddenly quailing at the idea of attempting to demand what I want.  Or need.  Whatever.

I scrunched up my face against him.  I lifted my head slightly, enough to be heard clearly, not enough to see his face.

“Um…yes?”

Shit.  It came out like a question.  I glanced up at his face and quickly away.  He looks curious, not angry.  Ok.  My gaze darted back.  That amused tension around his eyes deepened, and he outright smiled at me.

“Darling, if that’s what you want, that’s exactly what you shall have.”  Tom’s hands squeezed my hips as if reassuring me, and then dropped to his sides.

I stared at him.  Did I just obtain permission to try to be dominant to him?  Yeah, I did.  Well, fuck me.  Now what?  I glanced around the lounge, and the sofa we occupied.  What do I want?

Well.  I’d prefer to be someplace more comfortable, for a start!  Someplace where I won’t be worrying about whether Tom is comfortable, or distracted by the lack of room.  
I pushed myself off his lap and stood, biting my lip as he looked at me expectantly.  I chewed my lip.  What would Tom do?  Ah ha.

I reached out a hand toward him and waited until he set his hand in mine.  I stepped back and gave a little tug.  He stood.  Fuck me, it worked!

I turned and walked toward the hallway to my bedroom, holding his hand and leading him.  For a wonder, he followed me.  I stopped in front of my bedroom door and looked at him, much as he always does, tacitly asking for permission.  Wanting to see if he wants to do this.

Tom’s lip quirked up.  He bent swiftly and kissed my cheek, then reached out and opened the door.  I searched his face.  Yes, he gets it.  He always, always waits for me to open my bedroom door, a tangible consent to whatever scene he has planned.  This time, it’s me.  I’m the one asking for consent.  It feels very weird.

I stepped through the doorway, my hand grasping his and led him to my bed.  Turning toward him, I grasped his arms and turned to put him between myself and the bed.

“Will you…please lie down, Tom?”

His eyes darkened and he lifted his chin.  “Are you asking me, or telling me?”

Fuck.  He’s challenging me?  Am I asking or telling…?

I narrowed my eyes at him and put my hand on his chest.  “Get on the bed, Tom.”

And he did!  Damn.  He held my eyes as he did it, but he did get on the bed.  He pulled himself backward toward the headboard, clearly intending to lean back against it.  But that’s not what I want.  I started to ask, but changed it to a demand instead.

“Lie down flat, please.”  His eyebrow quirked, but he did as I asked.  I paused.  Now why does it feel like he’s just humoring me.

“Close your eyes, Tom.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.  Surprised that I can recognize that he’s not really submitting, he’s just humoring me?  Tom closed his eyes.  A bit reluctantly, but he did it.  His body tensed.

I waited, waited until he began to relax.  Without touching him, I placed my hands on the bed to either side of his head and knelt over him.  I leaned down to his ear and breathed “Hands above your head.  Hold onto the headboard, Tom.  Don’t let go…”

He hesitated and swallowed, but then slowly raised his hands to the underside of the headboard, curling his fingers behind it.

I sat back on my heels and contemplated him.  What next?  There’s something a little heady about directing him, but it’s not particularly spontaneous.  I have to think out each step.  I can do it, but it feels somehow forced.  Definitely not as smooth or fluid as when Tom tells me what he wants from me.

I set my hand gently on his chest, over his heart.  He flinched just slightly, but relaxed immediately.  I rubbed my hand up and down his belly slowly.  

“It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it?”  I mused. He huffed a small laugh.   
   
“Submission, or Domination?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He chuckled ruefully.

I unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled the tails out of his trousers, then reached for his belt.  I could feel his belly muscles trembling under my knuckles as I unbuckled it and unbuttoned and pulled the zip down.  How am I going to get his clothes off?  There’s a little smirk on his face.  I can’t lift him…  Oh duh.  I don’t have to undress him.

“Take your clothes off, please.”  

I sat back and watched as he peeled his shirt off and then pushed his trousers and pants off his hips and down his legs.

I ran a hand down his bare torso, feeling the contours of his belly, the crease at his hip.  I pushed him back.  Because I wanted to.

I planted my hands on either side of his head, his arms raised and gripping the headboard as I leaned over his prone body.  A couple of curls had escaped the knot behind my head and the blonde ends dangled over his face.

He wore the most mixed of expressions, his eyes hooded with lust, his teeth closed on his bottom lip, the cords of his neck standing out in tense anticipation.  He was so beautiful, I had to lean down and lick his lip before I pressed my tongue into his mouth.  I could  feel him struggling with his desire to give me the submission I had asked for, and with his desire to let go the headboard and take control from me.

I felt the heat radiating off his belly where I’d straddled him.  His back arched toward me to push himself against me, against my wetness.  

Rising a little on my knees, I slid back and glided my aching sex over his cock, letting it drag through my folds, my head falling back in my neck with a groan.  The heat of his cock nearly undid me.

“Fuck, Ellie!”

His little anticipatory moans were killing me, but I wanted more of them.  I settled more of my weight, pressing down against him as he slid up and down my folds, the head and then the shaft of his cock slick with my juices, feeling so incredible as they glided over my clit, over and over in the rhythm of my choosing.

“Christ Ellie…” he gritted.

My eyes trailed up the undersides of his arms, watching the bulge and flex of his triceps as he gripped the headboard harder, cords in his forearms knotting under his skin.  
Lifting my hips higher, changing the angle of my pelvis, I took him inside me on one long stroke to the sound of Tom’s groan.  Sitting up, I began to rock over him, moving him inside me so that he hits every place.  He felt so good this way.

God, so good.  But, there was some key ingredient missing.

“Tom, “ I whined, “I need…”

“Fuck, yes!”  He gasped, grasping my hips and beginning to move me, angling to strike that place, pushing me, moving me to his need, my need in tandem.  He always knows…  
I cried out as I came, curls bouncing and arms trembling, Tom pulling me down to grind against him as he thrust up hard, shouting out his own orgasm.

I collapsed over him, panting, his arms wrapped around me.

"Alright, love?” He whispered.

I nodded my head into his chest.  Toms hand came up to caress my cheek.  He lifted my chin, looking down into my eyes.

“Talk now?  Or in the morning?”

I was surprised that he was giving me a choice, but immeasurably grateful not to have to muster brain cells to process tonight.

“Tomorrow?”

“Mmm.”  Tom kissed my forehead, and we slid into sleep.

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

I woke up in the early morning light curled into Tom’s side, head cushioned on his shoulder and his arm around me. I wanted to stretch but I restrained myself, not wanting to wake Tom yet.  An awake Tom is a questioning Tom, and I’m not ready with answers yet.

My eyes ran over the curls and petals carved into the bedposts, in an endless, beautiful Möbius strip as I contemplated last night’s activities.

I had thought long and hard about Tom’s punishment, and about his right to punish me vs. James’s beatings, and why they were different. Ultimately, it came down to my consent. James coerced me. He made up excuses to hurt me for his own pleasure and never allowed me to voice my objections. Tom, Tom stated the issue, the broken rule that I had previously agreed to comply with, and gave me every opportunity to refuse his punishment. I let James abuse me. I let Tom punish me. His physical punishment was sharp, but knowing that I had scared him and upset him was what drove my true contrition, and my determination never to break that rule again.

Switching roles… I grimaced. I guess it did answer one fundamental question for me. I definitely am not a top. Oh, I loved being able to touch him whenever, however I wanted. My hands twitched, still feeling that smooth muscled chest, the round hardness of his biceps filling my palms, my fingers running through his curls.

Being unrestrained… No -unfettered- had been a joy. Teasing him, sliding myself over his cock and listening to his needy little noises, knowing that I was the cause of those plaintive sounds, knowing that I could choose to slide him into me when I was ready, when I needed, without having to wait for him to decide, wait for him to stop teasing me and take me at last..? 

One thing about being a sub, there’s a bloody great deal of very frustrating waiting involved! A giggle threatened but I swallowed it. *That* had been a wonderful treat. Like a change from my favorite chocolate ice cream to raspberry swirl. It was lovely and I enjoyed every bit. But in the end, chocolate is still my favorite. Now I just have to discern which variety of chocolate…

Being in charge… that I didn’t enjoy nearly as much as I thought I ought. Directing Tom had felt weird, uncomfortable and un-spontaneous. I had felt timid and clumsy, as if I were performing a part. But touching him? Yes, a thousand times yes! Maybe I could ask for that sometimes..?

It was an interesting experience, but not really…something I have any particular yearning to do frequently. I suppose I could learn to do it, get better at it, and maybe even enjoy it for its own sake, but I don’t think topping is ever going to be something that I need. I don’t seem to have any instinct for it.  Tom, on the other hand…

The fact is, I do like it when Tom gets all Dom-ly. It’s a freaking turn on. But I’m glad he isn’t dom-ly all the time. Feed him chocolate and he turns into a giant teddy bear. I smirked to myself. Come to think of it, even his chocolate-induced teddy bear persona has a Dom-ly side.  That’s when I’m most likely to get chased around, after all!  
My smile faded as a new thought occurred to me. Maybe, instead of exploring topping, I ought to be exploring more in depth submission?

That thought was a little bit frightening for a moment. But then, it’s Tom, isn’t it? It’s not he who shall not be named. There’s no question that I would be safe with Tom. My hesitation is more about my own emotional reaction to the possibility of giving up any more autonomy.  Would that would be something Tom wanted?  Would it even be possible? Because frankly, we are both so busy with our own careers. Could we even carry on a more D/s relationship outside the bedroom, given that I often need to work all hours and Tom is frequently out of town?

He’s been mostly London-based for the last eight months, I don’t know how that would work when he’s away filming for months on end. It might be possible, but it seems to me that it would be very stressful in those circs. And I’m very not interested in adding more stress to our lives.  Hmm.  More thinking needed.

Tom stirred, my head rising and falling on his deep waking breath.  I lifted my head from his shoulder, to let him stretch all his long limbs, circling his wrists and shoulders as he always does on waking.

I find it so comforting that he always wakes in the same way, knowing that his arms will wrap around me and pull me close, burying his face in my hair and breathing deep before he loosens his embrace and murmurs, “Good morning, beautiful girl.”

“Morning, pretty boy.” I reply as always.  He grins and slaps my backside as I start to squirm with my need to get to the bathroom.

“Off you go!”  He pushes me toward the edge of the bed and I slithered out quickly to go brush my teeth and have a pee.

When I emerged I was delighted to find him still lying in bed.  He’s usually dressed and bouncing around with too much energy by this time, so I guessed that he had a lazy morning planned for today.

He lifted the sheet, smiling invitingly, and I got back into the bed with gurgle happiness.  He settled me on my pillow, tucking the sheet around me, and kissed my temple.  
“Stay here, darling. I’ll be right back.”  He went for his turn in the loo and then went to put the kettle on. I drifted a bit, contentedly.  It will be a ‘tea in bed’ morning…

He returned shortly carrying two mugs of tea, steam curling up as he came to a halt beside the bed, setting them on the bedside table.  He pulled me to sit up as I groaned in mock protest, stuffing pillows behind me, handing me my tea, and settling himself against his own pillows. He darted a quick kiss against my cheek.

We sat quietly, carefully sipping our too hot tea and watching the birds flitting and squabbling at the bird feeder outside my bedroom window. I felt him take a deep breath. Here it comes…

“So Ellie, what do you think of topping?”

I wrinkled my nose as I looked up at him, almost on the verge of telling him that I adored it and wanted to top to him all the time – just to see his face. But… On further reflection it would not be funny at all. And he might call my bluff. I shrugged.

“I guess it isn’t really my thing. It didn’t do anything for me other than make me worry I was doing it wrong. I know I was rubbish at it. What…how did you feel about it?”

“I think you could do it, and you’d feel better about it if you had more practice.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Lots and lots of practice…”

“Goof! That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” I dug my fingers in and tickled his ribs.

Tom yelped, practically levitating away from my teasing fingers and took my tea away, setting it carefully with his.  He turned back and pounced on me, tickling me in return. We tussled about playfully, giggling a bit until Tom trapped me, holding my hands above my head, his body holding me down and kissed me deeply, his mouth warm and tasting of bergamot.  When the kiss ended, I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Now who’s evading questions?  Are you going to answer my question? Or do I need to start thinking of consequences?“ 

Tom smirked and lightly bit my lower lip.

“Heaven forbid! Darling, being with you any way at all is breathtaking!” Awww. “If that’s what you need from me then I will do my damnedest to give you that. That being said…”  He made a rueful face. “I’m afraid I would make a very disappointing sub.”  I snickered and shook my head.

“Don’t be ridiculous Tom! I’m certain you would set yourself to become the best sub in the world! But then I would be playing with the actor, wouldn’t I? It wouldn’t really be you…”  Tom tipped his head and shrugged a shoulder with a small grimace.  I sobered and ran my fingers over his face, tearing up.

“Thank you for the… gift. That you would be willing to give yourself to me that way…means the world. But no, thank you.  This…the way you are, this is honest.”  I hid my face in his neck briefly, but forced my head up to look him in the eye.  

“You’re just right the way you are, Tom, and I wouldn’t want you to be anything else. And I’m not wanting to be something else, I’m just trying to figure out what I am.”  I paused then hurried on, “…but, if you wanted a change of pace, of course I’d try…”

Tom interrupted me with another deep kiss, scrambling my brain. When he finally let me up for air, I searched for the rest of my thought.

“I don’t really need or want to be in charge. But maybe it would be all right if, just every now and then, I could… ask?”

“More sex? Well,” he sighed a put-upon sigh, “if you must…”

I snorted at his teasing, bit his lip in turn, and narrowed my eyes at him.

“Well, with an attitude like that, maybe I *should* tie you up and have my way with you!”

Tom flipped me over unexpectedly, making me squawk loudly.

“Oh yes?” He purred, then yanked me onto all fours and settled on his own hands and knees directly over my back, rather like those stacking tables.   I fit under him, just right.

“You and what army, Shorty?” He growled into my ear from above.

I peeked over my shoulder at his face, checking to be sure he was still playing, and finding a smug little smile there.

Tsk.

I sneaked a hand under and across my body, snatching his opposite wrist, I yanked it out from under him, at the same time rearing up, using my body to tip him fast onto his back, knocking a surprised grunt from him. That put my back to his belly. I could have continued the rollaway to complete my escape, but I might have been just a liiiittle bit slow, accidentally on purpose.

Tom does have good reflexes, I’ll say that for him. His arms snapped around my body and captured me, his long legs crossing over mine, immobilizing me. I could have got out of his hold, but I would have had to hurt him to do it, and I had no intention of hurting him.  As a matter of fact, I was exactly where I wanted to be!

“Gotcha! Now what, darling?”

I could hear his confidence in his own superior size and strength in his voice, that confidence that never quite tips all the way over into arrogance and makes all my insides clench. I went limp over him.

“Mmmm. Now… I win!”  I tipped my head back and looked up at him with a big grin.  I snuggled my back into him, and – whoops! –  rubbed my arse into his groin. He groaned at the contact and I could feel him twitching and hardening against my backside.

“Oh yes, love, you clearly have me at your mercy! Hmm, I have just the prize for you, too…”  He let my torso go and pushed me up to sit up, facing away over him.

“You know what to do…” his voice gravelly with lust.

I knelt up over him and grasped his cock, giving it a long stroke first, and lowered myself slowly onto him. Hissing, Tom’s hands bit into my hips at the slow slide, but he let me take him at my own pace, stretching to accommodate him.

Finally settling him in me to his root, I took a moment to breathe. He’s so deep this way…

I swiveled my hips experimentally, moving slow, getting accustomed to the angles. He groaned again and ran his hands up my back, over my shoulders and down my arms to my wrists. He tightened his grip and pulled my arms behind me.

“Ride me, Ellie.  Ride me hard.”  He demanded, as he bucked up into me.

I sat back hard on him and swirled my hips, rocking over him, my pussy clutching at his cock.

“God yes, Ellie! Just like that..!”

He let go my wrists and I moved my hands in front of me, leaning forward onto his thighs. He smoothed his hands along the outside of my thighs over my arse and up my back.

“Beautiful girl…” he whispered.

His hands came to my hips, grinding me against him helplessly as he thrust up. Then he started a rhythm, shifting my hips back and forth. I cried out.

“Shh, Ellie. Quiet now. No more noise…” he demanded. Oh God.

He dropped his guiding hands away from my hips. I leaned forward, moving almost entirely off him and sat back, taking him back into me again.

No noise. I felt my insides clench at his command. I was instantly more focused on exactly what I was doing. I closed my eyes to concentrate on the effect, and damn me if I didn’t ride him like the fucking stallion he is.

“Make me come, Ellie…”

I glanced over my shoulder at Tom to find his head thrown back, panting, and a sheen of sweat gleaming over his chest, his hands twisted in the sheets.

I faced forward just in time to see Tom’s heels draw up the bed and braced myself for his thrust, pushing down hard at the same time and feeling the prod of his cock low in my belly. I barely caught back my groan, remembering Tom’s demand for no noise.

“Touch,” Tom panted, “touch yourself Ellie… make us both come!”

Oh yessss,  echoed in my head, but not through my lips. I slipped my hand between my legs and realized that I wasn’t the only one I could play with in this position. I slipped my fingers below and over the length of him at the top of my stroke and back several times, gathering moisture to slick my clit, and not incidentally causing Tom to strangle a shout at the extra sensations.

I circled my clit with my wet fingertip, occasionally gliding it over the top of my hood. My pussy never failed to clamp down tight around Tom’s hard length and feel every damn centimeter of him when I did that.

I reached my other hand down and softly stroked his balls. I sped up and my breasts were bouncing, swaying, tugging at me, my finger swiping directly over my clit. I moved my hand from his balls and carefully scraped my nails up the slick silken skin of his cock at the top of my stroke. Enough to add an unexpected sharp sensation, not enough to make him fear I’d suddenly grown teeth.

There was nothing strangled about his shout this time. His hands shot to my hips and slammed me down onto his thrusting cock. My fingertips slid across my clit and I broke around him with a cry, barely registering that Tom was shouting again.

 

“Ellie..!”

He jerked me onto him and filled me as my orgasm milked him. He came and came, each twitch of his setting off more tremors in my pussy, his breath coming in pained gasps.  
I fell forward limply, only too late realizing that his pelvis was still high above the bed, his knees up and spread wide for greatest leverage. With my natural grace I fell between his legs, landing face first on the rumpled bed sheet under us and slithering forward off him very inelegantly.

“Damn. Didn’t stick the dismount!” I muttered.

We both lay limp and laughing breathlessly for several minutes.  Tom stroked my hair as we recovered.

“Ellie love, I think you are ready to do a little more exploring. You’re questioning, and that’s a good thing. Will you let me help you find some answers?” He smoothed my hair off my face. Does he mean that?  I scrunched up my face and thought.

“I guess I have to figure out what my questions are first, yeah?” I suddenly feel a little reluctant and scared, as if I’m seriously considering flinging open Pandora’s box.  I paused and thought.

“I have all this other crap to deal with. Do I really want to add more?” my voice a bit plaintive. He half-smiled at me.

“I don’t think that’s the right question darling. I think it’s not a question of whether you want more things to deal with. I think that the fact that you are questioning means that you are in need of some, hm, certainties, or at least more variables.”

I mulled that over, seeing the sense of it, but I shivered, also seeing loads of pitfalls. What if Tom doesn’t like my answers? Will I lose him? I burrowed my head into his chest not wanting to contemplate that. Which, if I’m honest, is at the root of my fears. I looked at Tom. I can tell he’s thinking.

“I must say, experiencing you as mistress…mind blowing. I suppose it doesn’t hurt for me to have a taste of what you endure.”

I jerked my head up.

“I wouldn’t exactly term it ‘enduring’, Thomas!” I said a bit tartly.

He grinned, his eyes closed, face tilted towards the ceiling as he lay on his back. He cracked his eyes open and side-eyed me, grin in place.

“I believe you know exactly what I mean, Ellie!”

“Oh, yeah.” I giggled.

He turned on his side, propped his elbow, his head in his hand, his face contemplative now. His finger traced over my lower lip.

“I think it’s a good thing, that small taste of being in your place. It was frustrating.” He thought a moment. “…And tantalizing. Educational.” I turned my head toward him. Is he serious?

“So what are your conclusions?” I asked.

“Not enough data.” He said promptly. I stared at him.

“Tom? Are you like… asking me to top you again?” I watched him give it some serious consideration.

“Noooo.” He drew out the syllable thoughtfully. “Not necessarily.” He squinted into his own head for a moment.

“Just being required to hold onto the headboard, when I wanted to touch you so badly…it gave me a new appreciation for restraining one sense to heighten the others, how it sharpens one’s focus. So I suppose…I hated it and loved it at the same time… Is that how submitting feels to you?” He asked curiously.

I thought about that. His question has given me a little insight into how he thinks of bottoming.

“Pretty much. It’s very…intense.”

We lay entwined, thinking our own thoughts.

“So,” I said eventually. “Would it be okay if I asked to be able to, like…touch you sometimes?” I felt weirdly shy about asking this. Tom’s smile broke over his face.

“I can hardly say no, after urging you to use your words so often now, can I?”

“Well, you needn’t be so smug about it, Thomas!” being unable to entirely smother my grin. I didn’t even try not to roll my eyes at him. Tom rolled over on me, pinning my wrists to the bed.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you that your eyes might get stuck like that?” I rolled my eyes again.

“Of course she did! Just like any other good mum!”

He nuzzled my ear.

“I think you’ll be a good mum yourself, one day.”

My brain short circuited and I went rigid. Dear God, right out of the blue…  My first impulse is to push away.  Or change the subject.  But -shit!- here he is bringing it up.  I pulled in a breath.

“Um, yeah, about that…”

Tom twisted to see me properly, surprised and puzzled.

“You don’t want kids eventually?”

I desperately want to tell him ‘No’ and leave it at that.  But I know that Mr. Question-all won’t leave it.  My eyes went back to the tracing of leaves and vines on my bedpost.

“It’s not really a matter of ‘want’…” I said faintly. Oh God. Here we go. The corner of his mouth dipped in that thinking thing he does.

“Do you mean that you can’t have children?” He asked softly.

“Not exactly…” I paused. “More like I shouldn’t. I won’t.”

Tom blinked.

“And why is that?”  There goes Tom’s curiosity.  Oh hell. I don’t have any idea how to articulate this to him without sounding like a damn textbook.

“Tom… both my mother and my grandmother died in their early 40s of ovarian cancer…” I left him to work out the rest for himself, which he did pretty rapidly.

“Ellie, are you ill?” His voice was gruff and strained. I blinked rapidly at the ceiling trying to keep tears at bay.

“Not yet,” I whispered.

“Oh Ellie.” he murmured, gathering me into his arms. “What does Dr. Patel say?”

“Keep my ovaries, have a child, and risk not only dying and orphaning her, but also passing on my genetics to her, for a repeat cycle. Like I would inflict all that on my child.” I said bitterly.

“And what does she say about your chances of getting ovarian cancer?” he prodded me softly. I snorted.

“She says I don’t have any of the known genetic markers. My chances are – I air quoted – ‘somewhat elevated’, given my family history.”

Tom’s forehead wrinkled. He looked confused.

“Surely that’s the good news, Ellie? That you don’t have the genetic markers?”

“Known, Tom. Known genetic markers” I said firmly.

Tom fell silent, his hand cupping my head over his heart.

 


	35. Chapter 35

I fiddled with my hair, pulling a curl out and letting it go, winding and unwinding around my finger, as I sat in the big squashy armchair in Ryan’s office.  My eyes kept crossing as I watched my finger twining in my hair. I was distracting myself, and I knew it.  Anything to damp down the rising anxiety in my chest.

“He… he wants me to meet his mother, and,” I blew out a breath, “he wants me to move in with him.”  Saying the words out loud somehow made them real, and much, much scarier.

Ryan sat back, her sharp, dark eyes and kind face watching me.

“How do you feel about that?”  I blew a curl off my forehead and huffed out a small laugh.

“How did I know you were going to ask me that?”  Her crimson lips twitched.

“Because it’s what I do, and you know it!” Her fast grin glimmered.  "Answer the question, Ellie.“

God. Putting actual words to my feelings… I want to be brave, but I’m not.

"I feel terrified.”

“Why are you terrified, Ellie?”

“Because it’s all so…big. It opens up so many cans of worms…”

“Pick one and tell me about it,” she persisted. Naturally.

I huffed. ”…He brought up children the other night.  I haven’t really…talked to him about my health. I mean, I have, but he doesn’t really understand yet.  He really needs to know about that before he… I can’t let him think that I’m someone he can have a future with!“

"Why do you say that?”  Ryan seemed genuinely puzzled.  I snorted in exasperation.

"All I can bring him is pain and hospital rooms and death! I’ve already been through that with my mum. It’s terrifying, and horrifying, and heartbreaking! I wouldn’t put a dog I didn’t like through that, why would I do it to someone I love??” I couldn’t stop my voice from rising, couldn’t stop the anguish in my voice. The thought of Tom going through all that… I can’t. I simply can’t.  Ryan handed me a tissue. I balled it up in my fist.

“What have you heard from Rani? Did all your scans and tests come back?”  Her forehead creased.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I officially lived through last year cancer free.”

As usual, instead of feeling relieved, I ended up feeling more anxious about next year’s scans. And I wasted more time arguing with Rani about getting a total hysterectomy. I don’t see why I should be required to keep all the bits that are likely to be the cause of my early death.  SHE thinks I’m too young to make that decision yet. But dammit, it’s MY body.

“So you don’t have cancer. That’s a good thing, right?” Ryan asked reasonably.

“I guess.”  I rubbed my forehead. “But having been cancer free for one more year doesn’t guarantee that I won’t get it this year! Or the next. I mean, you get that my mother and my grandmother both died early of ovarian cancer and that I carry their genetics, right?”  

Ryan regarded me seriously, and sighed.

“And you get that, while there’s no guarantee that you won’t get cancer next year, there’s no guarantee that you will get it either, right?”

“Of course. But realistically my odds are worse than most…”

"And is that how you want to live your life, Ellie? Keeping people at arms length, waiting to get cancer and to die alone?”  

Brutal.

"Of course it’s not how I want to live!”  I burst out. “But what I want has never changed a damn thing! Hope… hope hurts!”  I launched out of my chair, pacing and gesticulating. “Every damn time, Ryan!”

“Well Ellie, that’s just about the saddest damn thing I’ve ever heard. You are just all kinds of pitiful, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you, Ryan. Now you’re getting it.” I turned and glared at her.  She merely cocked her head and regarded me curiously.

“Is it that you are afraid that Tom would leave you if you got sick?“  

I laughed bitterly. "Tom? No. Not Tom. Tom is steadfast.  Tom would stick through every agonizing minute, suffer through every minute with me…”  My eyes welled with tears.

And I would never be allowed to give up…

“How could I do that to him?”  I whispered. Or to myself? Ryan’s eyebrows went up in dark peaks.

“How could you not?  You think he loves you enough to stay through that one possible future, how could you deny him all the other possible futures?”

I stared at Ryan, utterly stunned. Other possible futures?! What? I felt like I had been gut-punched, my air running out.

“Love, you could be struck down and killed by a bus tomorrow! Would you want to go to your grave knowing that you’d never told him you love him? Ellie, even with your possibly, tiny bit greater than average genetic chance at cancer, you have a better chance at being killed in an automobile accident than of contracting cancer in the next year! Or ever, really.”

My arms are wrapped tight around my middle, fighting against hope. I can’t… there is no hope. Hope hurts. Every new test, every new procedure, and more tests after that and more treatments, and getting your hopes up one more time, over and over and over? And never, not once, having your hope fulfilled? No. Not again.

I fell back into my chair, arms wrapped tight around my torso. I’m not putting Tom through that. Hell, I’m not putting myself through that! At the very first negative test I am so fucking out of here!  I don’t care, call me a coward! I’ve been there already and I don’t have to imagine what it will be like.  It’s etched in my bones.

I have only one guarantee in my life. And that is that my life will not end with tests and treatments and procedures and more tests… and Tom standing over me, clutching my hand, telling me everything is going to be alright. Lying to the both of us. 

God. It’s some goddam life when getting hit by a bus is a better death than you could reasonably hope for…

Fortunately, our time was up.  I feel raw, flailed.

I could only be grateful that Tom was doing night shoots, and I would have time to gather some semblance of normalcy before he sees me this way.

***  
I’d finished, we’d finished work on the Redmayne’s kitchen earlier than expected a few days later because the weeks’ shipment of plumbing fittings hadn’t arrived yet. Terry is our certified plumber, and the plumbing had to be completed and pass inspection before we could move on to installing the baseboards.

So I ran some errands that I had planned for later in the week, instead. I stopped at the grocery and did my shopping, deciding to pick up a few extra things for Tom’s kitchen as well. He’d been working night shoots all week, and had been sleeping at his in the daytime.

I missed having him around, but with his need to sleep all the hours of the day it seemed best that he be in his own place. It’s hard enough to sleep during daylight hours, hard to relax and let go. It’s easier to do it if you’re in your own comfortable familiar surroundings. So, I’m good with it. His comfort is important to me.

So I did my shopping, picked up a few things for Tom. On my way home a stall of flowers outside a florist’s shop caught my eye. I couldn’t resist the bouquet of sunflowers with gladiolas. The bright open faces of the sunflowers tracking the sunlight reminded me of Tom. The gladiolas too, come to that. Tall and slim and elegant, they’re a deep sensual red… Anyway, I would take them over with the groceries I’d picked up for him later, after I’d taken my own things home.

I smiled to myself as I walked home, thinking about setting the cheerful flowers where he’d see them as soon as he came in his door, pleased with the idea of surprising him. It makes me feel good to take care of him in these little ways, making sure he has Milford’s tea or a fresh packet of biscuits when I’m not there with him. I checked my watch as I got home. Tom left for his set several hours ago now. I’ll put away my own groceries and then head over to his to drop his things off.

One of my favourite, if not my very favourite memory, is of the night Tom had come home so shattered and asked me to feed him. I smiled happily, remembering his reaction to my soup. I’m not sure I have ever felt so…appreciated. It seems like he was the first person ever to be happy for my companionship outside of Mum… happy to have ME there.

I decided to reprise that memory just a little bit, because what the hell. I pulled another container of frozen soup from my freezer. Minestrone this time. I’ll take that over when I take the other things, leave him instruction so that he can have a quick hot meal before he goes to sleep in the morning.

I repacked everything, took a quick shower and made my way to Tom’s.

Letting myself in and shutting the door behind me, I hung my coat and kicked my shoes off. As I went to pick up the bags to take them through to the morgue I saw his keys in the bowl on the table near the door. My eyes skittered around the entry. His set bag was on the floor under the entrance table. He should have left hours ago! Geez, he couldn’t have overslept?

I left the groceries and the flowers in the entry, and went upstairs. Reaching the top, I heard his chuckle. And a woman’s voice.

"Oh Tom, you know it’s no trouble!”

My mind went blank, the conversation drew me to the open doorway of his bedroom where a ginger haired woman stood, her back to me.

"No, Claire. I’m fine. Thanks for your help! I’m so sorry to be such a bother!”

“Well, all right. Call if you need something. See you later.”

She turned and saw me in the doorway, her face shifting to surprise and then went stiff.

“Excuse me.” She said coldly, and she let her gaze scan up and down me with a little sneer. I blinked. What was that about??

Turning to look in, I got my first good look at Tom, stretched out on his bed, his foot propped up on a pillow, ankle wrapped in a soft cast.

“My god, Tom! What happened, are you all right??“ I flew toward him in concern and rocked to a stop abruptly when he threw his hand up, grimacing.

"It’s nothing! I’m fine! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I just came by to drop some things off for you in the morgue and heard voices.” I said distractedly. “What happened? Who was that? Have you seen a doctor?” A million questions boiled up inside me.

“I told you, I’m fine!” he said gruffly, his teeth gritted. “I just tripped over something on set, and twisted my ankle. And yes, I saw a doctor!” He sounded angry. Why is he angry?

“You got hurt on set? But why didn’t you call-”  He interrupted me.

“Dammit! I told you, I’m fine! The last thing I need is you… Don’t fuss, Ellie!” he snapped. He looked at me and I saw pure fury in his eyes and his mouth was doing that thing over a clenched jaw, and heat blooming over his face, his ears nearly scarlet with his anger.

I stood stock still with shock. I looked down at my chest, half expecting to see a knife sticking out of my heart. My eyes filled with tears and I turned and left the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind me, before I angered him further…

My feet took me automatically to the lounge and I fell down on his sofa like my strings had been cut, staring at a blank space on the wall across from me, my thoughts almost strobing, flashing into my mind in simple blunt sentences.

Tom doesn’t need me.

He didn’t call me for help.

He doesn’t want my help.

The last thing he needs is me.

He doesn’t want me.

My hands lay limp and useless on my thighs. Useless. I just simply had never considered that he didn’t, wouldn’t… want me to help. Ever since that night when he’d allowed me to cook and care for him, to feed him, to bathe him, to sleep next to him… I’d always just assumed that he wanted me. That he’d enjoyed my care, appreciated it. That I could contribute… that… to our relationship, that I could reciprocate all his care for me.

 

For without that reciprocity what am I? A burden. A useless doll baby that he can play with and take care of. My heart seized.

A toy.

Adrenaline flooded my body. I stood abruptly. I wanted desperately to run out that door, to run from my discovery. My realization of my place his life.

I took about three steps in the direction of the door. Then I stopped. Trapped.

I want to leave so badly! But I can’t simply leave, not while Tom is incapacitated… He stood by me, after all. He needs help, at least for now, even if he is too stupid to admit it.

Fuck!

Even if it’s not my help he wants. I blew out my breath. Okay, then. It is what it is. He is simply stuck with me until he’s either able to get around himself or he gets someone whose help he does want to come in.

Get on with it.

I went into the morgue and put away the groceries I’d brought over. I put the soup to warm. And if a few of my tears fell into the pot, well hell, he’ll never know.

It’s a sick, sad parody of my earlier happy memories of feeding him. I liked feeding him, dammit! What is so wrong with that?? It was the ONE THING that I could do for him. I mean, anybody could… I mean, get real. I’m not the only woman in the world with a warm place to put his dick. What to do I have to offer him that he doesn’t already have? Or couldn’t get with the snap of his fingers? But I thought that I was the only one who took care, who cooks for him, that I mattered…

I had to wonder how many of the meals that I had cooked for him he had eaten simply for the sake of keeping his toy happy.

Fuck!

I went into the small loo off the lounge and washed my face, soothing my red, sore eyes with a cold compress, trying to erase the signs of my tears, then I went back out to the morgue and made tea. I may have to stick around to make sure Tom gets the help he needs, but I sure don’t have to fool myself about whether he wants it. He doesn’t want my help? Tough shit.

I carried the tea up to his room, and slipped quietly in. He was propped up in the bed, swearing under his breath at his phone. I set his tea down on his bedside table. He glanced up at me.

“Thank you.” He said tersely, his eyes skating back to his phone.

“Is there a problem with your mobile?” I asked neutrally.

“No. Yes.” He sighed, frustrated. “It needs charging. I left my tablet downstairs…”

“Would you like me to get that for you?”

Tom looked like he’d bitten into something sour.

“Yes please.”

I nodded and went to fetch it. It was in his set bag, the one he always takes when he is working, with all his necessities, iPad, chargers, toiletries, shower gel, stuff he might need during breaks on set, or to clean up before he goes home.

Wouldn’t want the fangirls to get a good whiff up close with him after he’s been doing wire work or marinating in a leather costume all day…

I checked his iPad to make sure it was charged, and took it up. I handed it to him.

“Thank you.”

I nodded. I stuck my hands in my back pockets, so I wouldn’t betray myself by fidgeting with them.

“What sort of pain relief did they give you?” I asked as neutrally as I could. He grimaced.

“They said paracetamol as needed. And ice.”

“Have you had any?” I asked.

“No.” he said shortly, his mouth doing that thing. For the first time ever, I wanted to slap it off his face.

Right. I went into his bath and searched the vanity for the painkillers. I took the bottle out to him and set it next to his tea wordlessly. Then I turned and marched out of his room, gritting my teeth. I got a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer, wrapped it in a tea towel and took that back upstairs. I handed the cold pack to him. He accepted it sullenly.

“I’m sure you know what to do with that.” I said coldly. “Dinner will be in about half an hour. Shout if you need anything.” Tom looked surprised at my brusque tone.

“Ellie…”

I kept going, pretending I hadn’t heard anything. He may have to put up with having me fetch and carry for him, but I don’t have to subject him, or myself, to coddling him. Just as soon as he’s on his feet again he can go fuck himself. I bit down on my anger, shoving it away. There’s no need to torment myself by caring about someone who doesn’t want it.

I went back into the morgue, checked the defrosting soup and made a cup of tea for myself. I glanced around the cold, stainless steel room, shivering. Perhaps this kitchen does suit him after all…

I took my tea through to the lounge and curled up on the sofa, distracting myself from my unproductive thoughts with some inane sitcom on his telly.

I finished my tea and went to check on the soup. I switched my tea for three fingers of scotch. I found a tray and set it for his meal, carrying it carefully up the stairs.

Tom wasn’t in his bed when I got there. I panicked a little. Where the hell had he got to? Oh. Of course. Just then I heard the toilet flush in his bathroom. I cleared the space for his meal on his bedside table. Set it down and went to wait by the door to the bath gritting my teeth, trying to keep back the angry words that wanted to boil out. I heard the faucet go on as he washed and a long two minutes later he opened the door, standing there on one leg.

“You should have called me.” I bit out.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” he returned. “I’m fine.” he gritted, as he made a short hop toward the bed, wobbling a bit. I moved to fit my shoulder under his, my arm around his waist to help him navigate back to bed.

“Yes. Clearly you’re fine.” I said bitterly.

He turned and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Dammit Ellie, I don’t need you to hold my dick while I pee!”

I glanced down at my chest. Nope, there’s still no knife sticking there. I turned and walked away.

“No, clearly you’d rather cut it off than ask me for help. Good night, Thomas.” I walked out trying to maintain some dignity, closing the door very gently behind me. I went down and cleaned the morgue, putting the leftover soup in the fridge. The thought of eating turned my stomach.

After, I went back upstairs. I took a shower in the guest bath, brushed my teeth and went to bed in his guest room, leaving my door ajar to hear him in case he called. Fat chance. I climbed between the cool sheets, remembering the first night I had spent here. The room, the bed were just the same, but there was no care tonight. I lay staring dry-eyed at the ceiling for what felt like hours.

When will I stop being so stupid about men? I had naïvely thought that no one could hurt me as Michael had. Then I thought I had reached some sort pinnacle of pain with James. I pulled the pillow into my arms. I heaved small watery laugh. Clearly I had no freaking clue.

I turned my face into the pillow to muffle my sobs. I have never once doubted that Tom wanted me, cherished me. Valued me. What a fool I am. How fucking pathetic to think that he needed me…

… Tom… he rescued me. Helped put me together as I fell apart. Wrapped me up in secure arms and held me up until I could stand on my own. I thought I’d been devastated when James wanted to share me out, to pimp me out to some stranger. But this… To have my, my help, my care so brutally rejected by the one person in the world who had a right to it… that pain sliced deep. I finally realized something about myself though.

I don’t just want to be wanted. I need to be needed.

I don’t know why that’s not good enough, why my care isn’t good enough… I loved my dad and tried to care for him. I knew that he needed help, and I tried, but… Hell, I was just a kid. And then later Mum got sick. And I did my best, showing my love by caring for her with every piece of me. Holding her hand through every awful procedure. Every awful result, all the way through until the last night, when I held her hand as she died.

I tried so hard, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t make it better for her. It’s the same story for everyone in my life that I’ve ever loved. I can never make it better. My help isn’t wanted or appreciated… I don’t know why I even keep trying…

I pressed my face hard into the pillow, letting it absorb my tears and my grief and my failure. Then I felt the covers lift off and Tom’s warm body slide in with me, wrapping around me, his face in the space between my head and shoulder.

“Oh, Ellie…”

I went rigid. I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I just had no more fucks left to give. My best hasn’t ever been enough… Tom’s body tightened around me. I tried to move away, but he refused to let me. He just…held on.

I finally gave up the struggle to push him away, too exhausted and wrung out to continue the fight, and lay still, feigning sleep.

Tom finally fell asleep. I slipped out of bed in the early morning light, quietly gathering my things. I went across the hall into his room and dressed, trying to figure out what to do now. I had spent a miserable night wrapped in the arms of a lie, and I just can’t anymore.

I picked up his phone and opened his contacts. I know his passcode, of course I do.  

I called his mother, introduced myself and apologised for the early hour, telling her about Toms’ injury and that he needs help for the next few days. I think I managed not to sound as if there were tears pouring down my face as I told her that he wouldn’t accept help from me. I was pretty brusque with her in brushing off her questions, I think. I told her that I was not able to help, and asked her to make whatever arrangements for his care she thought best, and rang off.  I hardly let the poor woman get a word in edgewise.

I went and put my coat and shoes on and walked out.  I left the poor wilting flowers on the floor of the entry.

 


	36. Chapter 36

I breathed relief when I stepped out Tom’s door, looking around in the early light at the usual morning bustle of people getting off to work and school. I needed some space to think rationally, and lord knows I don’t do that too well around Tom.  

By the time I arrived at mine, I had managed to leave Whiny Little Ellie, and Bloody Angry Ellie behind. Hopefully, Melodramatic Ellie will piss off, too!

I dropped my gear wearily in the entry and carefully locked the door behind me, heading for my shower and 10 minutes of blessed mindlessness as I relaxed into the hot water cascading over me, washing last night away.

I washed and dressed for the day, grabbed my stuff and headed out, intending to get a coffee and a muffin at my local coffee shop on the way to my workshop. For a wonder it was a lovely sunny morning. I hitched my bag over my shoulder and headed for the tube.

Halfway there my mobile chimed an incoming text. I pulled it out and opened it.

*You called my mother?! -TH*

I smirked.

*I did, yes.  I’m going to work now. -EM*

Then I ruthlessly turned my phone off. The Redmayne’s plumbing fittings had still not yet arrived, so I spent my day in the workshop, getting ahead of another client’s order. It was a good place to think quietly and reasonably. I needed the peace and quiet to kick myself into some semblance of grown-ass adult behavior. I realised pretty quickly that it was awfully damn stupid to be thinking that I somehow needed to break up with Tom over one unhappy encounter.  But.

Here’s the thing.  It’s not just that Tom behaved like a complete twat to me last night.  Repeatedly.  It hurt, but he can be forgiven, because I know that’s not who he really is. Tom is a generous and cheerful person, sometimes too damn cheerful. And always kind. This is really only the second or third time since I’ve known him that he’s been truly short with me. He has never dragged a crap day home to me and laid it on my doorstep.

This time… Well, technically he brought his crap day to HIS home, and I’m the one who turned up uninvited.  So, my bad. Even though I’d had no idea that I’d encounter him when I went over there.

No. My real problem had been that woman. That sneering ginger-haired bitch. I wasn’t jealous, exactly.  More…envious.

Tom was injured.  He'd genuinely needed help.  And yet, he didn’t come to me for that help. He didn’t even tell me…

That hurts, dammit! And if I’m honest with myself, I’m still pretty angry about it, actually.  Hurt that he turned to someone else. Angry at myself for feeling hurt. Is that pathetic? Yeah, probably.  But I find I’m way past caring about being pathetic.

I could practically hear Ryan sing-song in my ear as I smoothed a bit of sandpaper over a rough edge. ‘And how does that make you feel, Ellie?’

I snickered a bit. Ryan was never above a bit of snarkiness to get me talking.  But she always expected an answer, nevertheless.

I let my answer roll around in my head as I kneaded my tired hands for a moment.  I felt…

My hands dropped into my lap and I bit my lip as I watched them twine together.

Lost.  I felt lost.

As if something that I had relied on was suddenly not there. I liked doing things for Tom, and I had believed that he liked it, too.  Things like making sure that the biscuits he likes are there for him, or that the milk in his refrigerator is fresh, or feeding him a hot meal.  

I snorted.  I’m always feeding him.  No doubt Ryan would have some suitable psychobabble to describe my behavior.  But to me…it’s just me caring for someone I care about. I need to feel useful as more than a warm place to put his dick. There can’t really be anything wrong about that, can there?  But, did I misread him?  And if I misread him about this, what else did I misread?

Fuck.  

I rubbed a small trickle of sweat from my hairline with the back of my hand and looked down at the lintel piece I had been working on for hours, zero-ing in on the small nick I hadn’t meant to make on that leaf motif. I flexed my hands again, stretching them and shaking them out, trying to rid them of the creeping cramp that is tiring them.

I scooped up my water bottle and thirstily drained it dry, reaching for my mobile to check the time.  Enough for today.  My hands were done.  I packed away my tools and tidied up a bit, reluctantly turning my mobile back on before heading out.  Shit.  One text.  

*Ellie.  We need to talk.* -TH

Yeah.  No shit, Sherlock. His text came in around lunchtime. Not that I’d stopped for lunch.  I’ll figure out what to say after I’ve eaten and showered.  Maybe the right words will just come to me. 

Riiight.  I’ll deal with him later.  I snorted. I’m back to my Scarlett O’Hara impersonation.

When I got home, my shoulders were pleasantly fatigued, hands and forearms aching a bit from the repetitive motions of carving and sanding for hours. A couple of paracetamol and a stiff drink would take care of those nicely. I was too tired to bother with cooking.  And I’d taken my last container of frozen soup to Tom’s and left it there. I hope he fucking appreciates it… Maybe I’ll order take away for once.

It was a great plan until halfway through my second scotch. I hadn’t got around to deciding what I wanted to eat yet, when the doorbell rang and I went to answer it, drink in hand. I looked through the peep and fuck me, there he was. Because, of course he’s going to show up at my door when he bloody should be at home with that ankle elevated! And when I was halfway to drunk.

I was just pissed enough, in both senses of the word, to not even consider ignoring him, and cowardly enough to gulp a swallow of my drink for dutch courage before I let him in.

I pulled my door open and he turned to wave off the taxi he had apparently come in. Self-confident little prick. Okay, Big Prick. I snickered a little at my thought. Shit. I should not have opened the door in my state…

Tom turned back to me and looked me up and down, taking in my ratty old jeans and the random wood shavings still clinging to my clothing, my bare feet, and my half empty tumbler. I quite deliberately returned the favor, taking a slow sip of my drink as I noted his grey v-neck tee with his sunglasses tucked into the collar, how the tee shirt clung to his pecs, how the sleeves stretched around his biceps, his dark jeans, old khaki vans and, I was relieved to see, a walking stick.

“May I come in, Ellie?” he inquired.

I stood back and silently opened the door wider. Shit, why did I do that??

Tom limped in past me, turning and leaning on his stick as he waited for me to shut and lock the door. I moved past him as I waved my glass casually at him.

“Want somethin’ to drink?”

I had every intention of refilling my glass before this fight, or whatever the hell it is, I might as well bring something back for him…

“Thank you, Ellie. I’ll have whatever you’re having, please.”

Hmph. So polite. Now. 

He limped through to the lounge and sat as I went to the kitchen for our drinks. Some modicum of sense must have slipped in somewhere along the way as I poured out his drink. I added an ice cube and some water to my own.

Tom was sprawled in his usual spot on the sofa, his stick leaning within reach. I skirted around the coffee table, keeping it between us and sat his drink in front of him, far enough away that he’d have to shift forward to retrieve it, far enough away that he couldn’t reach for me instead…

Tom watched me sit, his eyebrows climbing as I threw my legs over the arm of my reading chair, settling back comfortably and letting a foot swing carelessly as I looked at him, sipping my drink, concentrating on the fire slipping down my throat. I realized that I’d had just enough scotch to be dangerous.  To myself, if nobody else.

Tom let the silence stretch, and I was good with that. God knows what idiocies, or idiotic truths, would fall out of my mouth if I began to talk.

“You called my mother.” He sounded slightly pained. Really? We’re starting there?

“Yep.” I nodded firmly.  “If you don’t want me, you’re her problem…” I took another swallow as I watched his eyebrows go up.

“Oh, what the hell else was I supposed to do, Tom?” I asked in exasperation.  “You clearly didn’t want me there, but I couldn’t just leave you alone when you couldn’t even walk!”

“Ellie,“ he spread his arms, "as you see, I am perfectly capable of walking.” I rolled my eyes.  Yeah, now he can walk.  Yesterday, not so much. I rolled my eyes at him, not even trying to hide it.

"Fuckweed.” I muttered into the rim of my glass as I tilted it to my mouth.

“I beg your pardon?” Tom looked surprised and confused, as if he really hadn’t understood me. Oh, scotch is so bad for me… my usual filters and brakes were off my tongue.

“You heard me, fuckweed.” I said louder. Oh god, why can’t I shut my mouth?!

Tom’s eyes lit. I saw the creases beside his eyes deepen. Mr. Fuckweed is amused.

“Wait.” I flung up a hand.  “I called you a ‘fuckweed’ and you’re laughing?”

“Well, it’s a very apt word.  Far more appropriate than the ones I’ve been calling myself all day!  And there’s a certain flair to ‘fuckweed’, don’t you think?” He lifted his glass and examined it’s contents before sipping judiciously, a smile lurking around his lips.  His eyes sharpened on me.

“Come over here and say that to me, Ellie,” he purred and patted the seat next to him.

“…Said the spider to the fly. I believe I’ll just stay over here out of reach, thanks!” I nodded firmly and smothered a small belch.

Tom blinked at me and reassessed, noting how I was lolling against the overstuffed arm of my chair. He tilted his head.

“Ellie love, have you perhaps had a bit much to drink?’

“Yep-p!” I nodded my head maniacally, curls bouncing crazily.

His amusement began to take on a certain sly cast. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Yeah, don’t think I’m so drunk that I can’t see the wheels turnin’ in your head! You’re thinking this is a perfect time to start asking questions, aren’t you?”

Tom chuckled and leaned back against the sofa regarding me.

“As a matter of fact, yes I am, darling.”

“Yeah well, you might wanna rethink that genius plan, Tom. I’ve had just enough scotch to remove all the filters from my mouth.” I hiccuped.  “And I really don’t mean that in a good way! You’re likely to get far more than you bargained for!”

Well, at least Sane Ellie had managed to warn him first, before Stupid Ellie took over my mouth again. I tipped my chin up aggressively and I settled back against my chair, getting comfortable.

“Bring it!” I gestured with my empty hand, wriggling my fingers insolently as I took another swig of my scotch. Oh yeah, Stupid Ellie is firmly back in control. The amusement died out of his face as he considered.

“Why did you take off this morning, Ellie? Without saying goodbye?”

Fuck me. Straight to it. I launched out of my chair to pace an agitated circle around it, wanting to protest that I just needed to get to work.  Which was the truth, of course.  Just not all of it. But Stupid Ellie beat me to the punch.

“Shit, Tom! What the hell do you want from me??”   

Holy crap, Ellie!  Don’t poke the Tom with a stick!

“An answer to my question,” he shot back.

“Well, why do you think I left??  I was fucking pissed off!”

“Don’t you think it might have been a good idea to tell me that?  Instead of running away?”

I snorted in derision.

“Oh sure!  What a fucking brilliant idea, Tom!  Like I’m going to kick a man while he’s down! I was angry.  Did you really need a screaming harpy shouting at you when you were incapacitated??”

I took a vicious pull at my drink, draining it and clacking the edge of the glass against a tooth.  Oww.  I swore and thumped the thing down on the coffee table in disgust.   
 Tom’s eyes narrowed as he watched my scotch fueled dramatics.

“What, precisely, were you angry about, Ellie?”

I deflated at his calm tone and covered my face with my hands.

“Shit, Tom.  I’m sorry-“ 

“No!” 

I wrenched my head up in surprise at his vehemence, and he shook his head at me.

“I’m sorry I was such a berk, Ellie.  I was a rude and and ungrateful wretch, and I know you were only trying to help.”  Tom had the grace to look ashamed of himself.  I nodded as impassively as I could.

“But, why, Tom?  I mean, I get that you were in pain and out of sorts, but…”

“Ellie…I humiliated myself.”  Tom studied his hands, turning them this way and that.  "I tripped over something that I normally would have avoided, I took a spectacular pratfall in front of all my co-workers… and the cameras for fuck’s sake!”  There was a slash of pink across his cheekbones as he recalled the incident.

“And I crashed into a rather expensive piece of equipment which fell and broke…”  He shook his head, looking mortified.   
   
“If I hadn’t been larking about… And then I came home and made an arse of myself to you.  I’m sorry, Ellie.”

I stared at him and blinked.

“Men really are form Mars, aren’t they?” I muttered rhetorically, shaking my head.  I looked up into his eyes.  “You think I’m upset because you were, um, less than gracious to me when you were in pain?  You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Apparently not.  Will you give me a hint?”  I took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly.

“Who was that woman?”

Tom looked at me in confusion.

“What woman?”

I rolled my eyes.  Seriously?

“The woman in your bedroom?  The one who gave me that filthy look before she left?”

Tom blinked at me, his brow furrowed.

“Claire?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I? It’s not like you bothered to introduce us,”  I spat out. That look she’d given me still rankled, and I haven’t the faintest clue what I’d done to deserve it.

“Ellie, come on.”  He shook his head.  “Claire is just one of the 2nd AD’s on set.  She drew the short straw and drove me to A&E to have my ankle looked at, that’s all.”

My stomach swooped as if I’d just stepped out the door of an aeroplane in mid-flight.  Here goes nothing…

“So, she was just a random semi-stranger that you turned to for help rather than me?”  I asked in a smaller voice than I’d intended.

Tom’s eyes widened and his lips parted.  He straightened up slowly.

“Oh.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained. “Bollocks.  I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

We both sat in silence a moment, looking away from each other..

“Ellie-“

“Tom-“

We spoke at the same time, and both gestured the other to continue. Tom got that stubborn, all male look on his face, his chin jutting out.

“Ellie, finish your thought.  Use your words.” he said firmly with a little warning twist of his chin.

“Dammit, Tom!”  Suddenly I was furious, and it all boiled out, all the crap I’d been holding in, trying to be a good girl and not complain to him. I banged my hand down on the chair arm.

“This is beyond enough!”  You’ve been working too hard! You weren’t just larking about, you’re fucking exhausted!” He is by god going to fucking hear me this time!

“Ellie, enough,” he said tiredly, “It’s my job.  This isn’t forever…”

“Bullshit, Tom!  You made me promise not to take unnecessary risks with my health and safety, and you promised the same to me.  You’re breaking your own rules.  You’re undervaluing yourself, and you’re letting them do this to you!”  I gestured violently at his walking stick.

I sing-songed at him in a really snotty tone, “Accommodating Thomas, let’s get him to do it!  He’ll work harder than any three other people and he won’t complain!’  Well, I’m fucking complaining!  You’re supposed to be taking care of the man I…yourself, and you’re doing a damned piss-poor job of it!”

I’m breathing hard, nearly panting with my indignation…and my anxiety at laying down the law to him.  That Tom hasn’t noticed is more evidence that he’s beyond exhausted.  
I threw my hands up, and turned to march out the door.

“Ellie, stay right here!  I don’t have the energy to chase you!“ he growled.

"My point exactly!  You’re breaking the rules!  What else am I going to do? Throw you over my shoulder, haul you into the bedroom and paddle your arse??”  He sat in stunned silence.  Tears welled in my eyes and my arms fell limply to my sides.

“I expect any day now to answer a call from A&E telling me they’re admitting you…  Oh wait, that’s right!  I’m just the sub, they won’t be calling me!  They’ll call your mother.”

Tom winced.  Yeah, that was a low blow, but I’m not above it.  Now to twist the knife.  "If I’m very lucky, she’ll call telling me why you won’t be home.  If not, I guess I’ll just be up all night, out of my mind with worry.“  I breathed deeply, pushing back the tears.

"You’re not just doing this to yourself, Tom.”  I gestured at his tired body.  "You’re doing this to everyone!  And not for nothing, but you’re doing it to the film production, too.  If you end up in hospital, there won’t be any damn film!

Tom glared at me, and I forced myself to glare right back.  Standing up to Tom is so hard.  I know he wouldn’t knock me into next week for my temerity as James would have, but still.

Then his chin dipped in defeat, and his shoulders went down.  "You’re right, darling.  I’m sorry.“  He sat there on the sofa, his elbows propped on his widespread knees, head hanging.

He lifted his head, looked at me tiredly. I shivered.  It feels wrong to get all up in Tom’s face. I fucking hate doing it. But if I don’t, then who?

"Please listen to me, Thomas.  This schedule is insane.  Four films, a BBC production and another run at the Donmar, promotional events, Red Carpets, Award Ceremonies, Interviews, not to mention your obsessive prep work for your roles.  It’s too much, you know it is!  You need a holiday, Tom before you implode.  And you need to have a fucking serious discussion with someone about reducing some of the madness.  You’re fraying at the edges, and it terrifies me to see it.  You’re the most patient, even tempered, kind man I know, but you’re snapping and snarling at everyone.  It’s not just me…”

I covered my face, flopping back down in my chair, dreading his response to my assertiveness, but unable to stop driving forward.

“Fuckweed,” I muttered.  God, shouldn’t the scotch have started to wear off by that point?

“Yes darling girl, we’ve established that.  I am indeed a ‘fuckweed’…Now we’re just determining the depth of my fuckweediness.  So bring the rest, out with it!”  
He gave me the courage I needed, I guess.

“Tom… I’m confused.”  I wrapped my hands around myself, holding tight.  I flicked a glance up at his face before my eyes darted away to the dark window on the other side of the room.  The raindrops on the panes looked like little star-bursts from the street lamp outside, shining on them.

“I…it made me feel like a nothing, like a useless toy, that you didn’t think to call me for help.”  I hung my head.  “I can’t be that, Tom.  I can’t.”  I dashed the tears from my cheeks and sat up, trying to put some steel in my spine. “It’s a Hard Limit for me.  I have to be able to reciprocate, to participate in this,” I waved my hand vaguely, “this relationship, whatever it is.  If you don’t want me to be the one that you turn to…”  I choked, unable to finish that sentence.

Tom stood, hissing as he put weight on his injured leg, and limped over to my chair.  Sliding to his knees, he put his hands on my thighs and rubbed.

“I’m so sorry, love.  I didn’t mean for you to think that you aren’t wanted or needed.  My head was so far up my arse that it never occurred to me… I understand now.”  
   
“Darling, please don’t hide your face from me. Give me your eyes, beautiful girl.”  He tipped my face up.  His eyes were full of warmth and regret.

“I’m sorry, my love. I should have rung you. I did think of you and wished you were there with me, I always want you and need you. But I foolishly let my embarrassment outweigh my good sense. I promise never to let that happen again. I thoughtlessly hurt both of us. And you’re right.  I am working too much.  I hate that it’s taking a toll on you.”  He sighed.

“I spent my adolescence in an all boys boarding school, love.  They taught me everything about being independent and self-reliant…and nothing at all about letting someone take care of me or comfort me…”

I leaned forward and draped my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck, breathing deep.

“Tom…”

“Ellie…”  I had never heard his voice so small and tentative. “Please forgive me, please take care of me…”

I stared at Tom. How had this even happened? Tom kneeling at MY feet…!  Asking for my forgiveness, my comfort. Whatever expectation I might have had of our conversation, it wasn’t this.  I pulled a couple of fingers through his curls, toying with the ends as I searched for words. And my voice.

“Yes, please…”  I managed a barely audible response, but he heard me, and at the moment that was the most important thing in my world.

Toms hand clasped the back of my neck as he pulled me down to meet his lips in a sweet, soft kiss that rapidly deepened to a fierce, claiming kiss.  When he let me up for air we sat blinking dazedly at each other.

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

“Thank you for calling my Mum. Someone had to knock some sense into my thick skull, and since you’d abandoned the field…”

“I’m sorry-“  

He grimaced and interrupted me.“Oh no.  All my own fault, every damn bit!  As Mum so acerbically pointed out to me.  When I woke and you didn’t answer my call, I went hobbling around looking for you.  Mum came in and found me in the lounge, completely starkers, hopping about on one foot!”  

I giggled at the image in my head.

“Yes. That was her reaction too.  It was undignified in the extreme!”

I gave into the belly laugh that was bubbling it’s way out of me, Tom joining me. God, It was such a relief from the tension that had been twisting in my stomach.

Tom cleared his throat and his voice went higher, sounding exactly like the woman I had spoken to. I snickered. He has such a talent for impersonations.

“Thomas, it’s the naughty step for you, young man!”

“Did she really?” I gasped through my laughter.

“Well, no, actually.”  He looked sheepish.  “She let me sit on the sofa, special dispensation for being injured, I suppose. Told me I looked ridiculous sitting there with a sofa cushion on my lap, found some pants and flung them at my head when she returned, then she went to make tea.”  Tom scrubbed his face with his hands, but I could see the creeping red up his neck.

“She did a good bit of grousing that she was the one who had to pull my head out of my arse once again! Told me that my sentence on the naughty step would be double if I didn’t apologize to you properly and with all due haste!”

I snickered at the thought of his mum chastising him for his behavior and Tom meekly taking it.  He rubbed his hands up my thighs again.

“Just so you know, my girl, I very much did not appreciate your disappearing act!”  

Ooops. Is he going to go there?  He held my chin between his thumb and forefinger and glowered a bit, then his eyes softened and he leaned up to kiss my forehead.  I slipped down onto the floor, on my knees beside him.

"It would save me, both of us, a deal of trouble if you could bring yourself to tell me when I’m being a…fuckweed.”  

I laughed.

“Are you giving me a new word, Tom?” I asked with a cheeky grin.  His eyes twinkled at me.  
   
“Fuckweed seems appropriate.”  I laughed again. He tucked his chin down on his chest.

“If you tell me I’m being a fuckweed, I’ll listen. I am trainable, I assure you, love.”

“But for training purposes," I let a little sly mischief creep into my voice, "I prefer positive reinforcement in the form of fresh baked biscuits…”

Tom’s eyes lit, and he smiled widely in delight.

“What sort of biscuits?”

“Let’s go see.”

Tom shuffled back a bit on his knees, giving me room to stand up. I watched as he shifted to stand and winced uncomfortably. A peculiar expression came over his face. He lifted his hands and face to me, gathering my hand between his two, kissing my knuckles and asked earnestly,

“Darling girl, would you kindly help me up?”

I choked up for a second but hurriedly blinked my eyes clear as I looked down at him.

“It would be my sincere pleasure, Thomas.” I set my feet and braced myself and gave him my elbow. The key to helping someone injured or ill stand up is to let them find their own balance and strength as much as possible.  I learned that from taking care of my Mum. He pushed himself up with a hand on the chair and used my elbow to keep his balance and his weight off his injured ankle. I reached behind me to pick up his stick, and handed it to him.

“Thank you, Ellie,” he said quietly, and tucked me under his arm, brushing a kiss on my temple. We hobbled carefully into the kitchen, and I hit the light switch with my elbow. I helped him sit at the table and lifted his foot onto another chair.

“Would you like a refill on your drink?” I asked as I moved around the kitchen, turning on the oven and locating the frozen cookie dough balls I had stashed in my freezer, and a baking tray.

“No, thanks.  I’ve had enough.  And so have you, my girl!”

I laughed ruefully.  “Ya got that right!” He chuckled, watching me set the little frozen balls evenly spaced on the tray.  I popped them into the oven and set a timer.

“But some paracetamol would not go amiss. Please?” he asked plaintively.

I laughed and reached into the cupboard where I keep them along with plasters and burn ointment. My T-shirt rode up as I reached up, and I caught sight of Tom out the corner of my eye, settling further back in his chair, his knee spreading wider.

 

I filled a glass of water and brought it and the bottle to him, stepping between his knees to set them on the table.  Tapping two into his palm, he handed me the glass of water and the pills.

“You first,” he encouraged.  I did as I was told.  I probably wouldn’t have got hangover from the amount of alcohol I’d had, but Tom was taking care of me, and I let him.  Setting him a good example!  I gave the glass back and he swallowed down his own dose.

Tom’s hand settled on my hip and he looked up, mischief in his eyes.

“Are you cold, Ellie?” He toyed with the edge of my T-shirt.

I smiled.  He’s back.

“Not at all,” knowing what was coming next.  “In fact, I was beginning to be a bit warm…”

Tom’s eyes hooded.  He pushed my shirt up, his big hands reaching under to cover my breasts warmly, fingers playing around the outer curves a moment before continuing upwards to pull my shirt over my head, setting my curls bouncing wildly.  I stood in my jeans before him as he nuzzled between my breasts a moment, leaving a small kiss over my heart, then his fingers trailed down my ribs to my waist band.  He unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, pushing them down to slide off.

 

Tom sat back up in his chair and his fingers traced up my ribs.  My nipples instantly drew up into tight little knots and I shivered at his touch.  He looked up into my eyes and smiled, just as the timer went off.  

“Excuse me… Mustn’t burn your rewards!” I said with a saucy flip of my hair.

“By all means, darling, save the biscuits!” He grinned up at me.

I quickly stepped over to remove the tray and turn the oven off, then went back to Tom.

“I think we should save those biscuits for later.” he murmured, pulling me into his lap.  That’s just fine with me.

He nuzzled into my neck, his tongue flickering over my earlobe.

“Do you want to take care of me, darling girl?” He murmured into the tender skin below my ear.

My breath stuttered. I nodded against his cheek, his light scruff scraping against my jaw. He nipped at the skin at the junction of my neck and shoulder. I gasped at the heat that arrowed through me.

“Say it, Ellie…” he demanded quietly. I covered the hand resting on my ribs, with my own.

“Yes, Tom. Always.”  I turned my head and drew my nose softly up his cheek.

Tom pulled me closer, an arm around my back, his other hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my face.  I could feel him hardening under my hip.

“My Ellie. I really am very sorry for my behavior, love.” He paused, his eyes roving over my face. “In future, I will try very hard not to be such a…” his lips curled up, “a fuckweed!”

I snorted a laugh and he bent and smothered that laugh with his mouth, his tongue reaching into my mouth and snatching back any desire I had to laugh. I whined and squirmed.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at me, his eyes darkening with that look in his eyes, the one that says I am the most precious, cherished, most wanted woman in the world at that moment.

“You are going to do what I ask, aren’t you, Ellie?” His voice a husky rasp.

My breath strangled me for the barest second. I nodded solemnly. God, yes.

“Yes, Tom.”

“Good.” he held up his hands.  “Help me up, please, Ellie.”

I let him steady himself against me again as he push himself up.  He took his stick in one hand, draped an arm around my shoulder and we made a slow progress to my room.  Tom gestured at the door, and I pushed it open unhesitatingly.  We walked through together to my bed.

“Up you go.”  Tom nodded at the bed.  He seems to enjoy the fact that my bed is high enough that I have to crawl up on it, rather than just sit.  I know for sure he likes watching me do it!

Tom pulled his own clothing off and did his own bit of crawling…with intent.  I felt my eyes widen and my breath catch as I watched his predatory progress.

Tom rolled up gracefully over me, his knees planted firmly between mine. He lifted a hand to my mouth.

“Good girl.”  He leaned into my ear, his lips brushing my neck as he spoke. “Suck my fingers, Ellie. Get them wet…”

Holy hell.

I opened my mouth at the press of his fingertips against my lips, swirling my tongue over his fingers, tasting salt and Tom. I think my eyes might have rolled up a little bit at the taste of him. My mouth certainly watered.

Tom smiled and drew his fingers from my mouth, slowly down my chin and neck leaving a cool trail of sensation on my skin. I made some sound of arousal and Tom’s hand left my collarbone to return to my lips.

“Shh, Ellie.” His fingers slid across my lips. “More.” He pressed his fingers against my mouth and I opened to him once again, laving his fingers. He lifted them away and I nearly cried out with their loss.

Beginning where he left off at my collarbone, he traced a wet trail over to top of my breast, and down the outside of my breast, leaving goose pimples behind his fingertips.  My breasts feel tight and heavy.

“I want you, beautiful girl…”  

He watched as the backs of his fingers traced along the underside of my breast.  He lifted his fingers to his own mouth, his eyes watchful as I felt my nipple tighten in anticipation. He slowly stretched his wet fingers out to my nipple, grazing the hardening tip, teasing it into a point.

I began to pant, trying not to lift my chest against his hand and take more than he is giving at the moment. Tom’s eyes flickered up to my mouth. He gave me a soft, sweet smile of approval.

“Beautiful…”

He moved his fingers back to my nipple, three fingertips circling the hard point and dancing around it until they grasped and pulled lightly.

I managed to smother my shriek. Just barely, but my back arched helplessly up. A spear of heat shot through my body and my pussy clenched desperately around nothing, driving my want up another three notches. Oh God.

“I need you, beautiful girl.”

Tom bent and tasted my nipple, kissing and licking and nuzzling as I swallowed my moans, my eyes squeezed shut. His hand trailed down my ribs to my hips, gripping and pressing me down against the bed. I want so badly for him to press his fingers into me.

Then his hand moved to trail the back of his knuckles over my folds. He leaned forward over me, onto the other hand, the first never ceasing its caress. His mouth sought mine as his fingers sought entry. My breath stuttered against his lips as he pressed a long finger into me.

“You always take good care of me, Ellie, and in more than just this way.” His voice was quietly sincere. “You make my life so much more joyful, beautiful girl.”

My eyes fluttered open, searching out his eyes and falling into the blue. I slid my hand up his chest and cupped his jaw, my fingers playing in the new bit of sideburns growing out for a scene in his current project, slipping into the longer hair behind his ear.

A second finger joined his first as they curled and stroked, searching and stretching, prompting a panted breath and an involuntary squeeze of his fingers. The fingers left me and my eyes snapped open as my hips twitched up, searching for the sensation. He licked his fingers and rolled onto his back, holding my eyes.

“I want your mouth, my Ellie.”

I pulled up to my knees and bent over him, giving a quick swirling swipe to the head of his cock as I pulled his foreskin back, and then blew gently across the wet. Tom’s hand settled on the back of my neck as I opened my mouth and he slid in. I closed my lips around the moisture cooled skin, smooth and silky.

He tasted sweet and salty and rich, the way shortbread tastes, and I moaned to have him again on my tongue. His hand rode the back of my neck possessively.

“So good.” He whispered. His hips rose off the bed, pushing slowly into my mouth as I sucked at him. I cupped his balls in one hand, my fingertips swirling lightly behind them as I sucked him down. His hips rose higher until his cock head brushed the back of my throat, the muscles of his thighs trembling to hold himself in before slowly pulling back. I drew a heavy breath through my nose and swirled my tongue over the underside of his cock as it passed my lips. His hand moved from the back of my neck to my jaw, lifting my head.

“Ride me, sweet girl.”

Oh God, at last…

I sat up and moved to straddle his hips, sliding myself over him, rubbing myself against him before sliding him into me. So full.

Tom’s hands gripped my hips as I began to rock over him. One hand found its way to the back of my neck again and he pulled me down as his other slipped between us. The pads of his fingers brushed over my clit. I convulsed at the touch, my rhythm faltering.

He pressed me into a kiss as his fingers pressed against my clit.

“That’s my girl… Are you going to come for me?  I want to feel you come…”

His words arrowed straight into me and I felt myself clench around him, making us both gasp.  His gasp slid into a groan.

“Oh yes, beautiful girl, do it again…  You feel so good…”

He thrust up harder into me and rolled us.  Mr. Clever situated us so that his injured ankle was over the edge of the bed, and then he cut loose, driving into me, his fingers pushing me over the cliff and setting me free.

He stilled for a moment as I came around him, watching me carefully, sweetly, avidly, and then began to move slowly, drawing out my sensation.  When I collapsed back into my pillow Tom’s pace picked up.  After a moment I slid my hands around him to his backside, feeling the muscles of his arse flex and tighten.

Tom leaned over me on his hands, filling me over and over as I clutched his lovely cheeks and stared up into his beautiful face.  His eyes were wild, jaw clenching as he thrust hard into me.  His color was high and his hairline gathering moisture.  Oh, I adore it when his skin slicks mine, the smell of him, the taste of him, the sound of his harsh breathing, the push and pull of him.  So good.

I dragged my nails over his skin and gripped his cheeks as he stuttered, swelling and pulsing inside me as he placed small, tender little kisses over my face and neck.  
I toyed with the hair at the back of his neck, stroking and soothing.  I intercepted his mouth with a kiss for him.

“I want you and need you, too, my beautiful Thomas, “ I whispered and smiled tremulously.

Tom lifted his head and smiled gently back.

“Good.”  He went back to kissing me.  My stomach growled loudly.  I blushed as he laughed outright.

"Did you eat this evening, Ellie?” His eyes narrowed, and voice faux-stern. I shook my head and  decided to play him up a bit.

“No, Sir.  I gave my last container of frozen soup away to some fuckweed…”  Tom chuckled.

“Well, I’m sure the undeserving wretch enjoyed it!  Bastard..”  Tom nosed into my neck with a kiss and a nibble.  "I suppose it will have to be biscuits for supper, then.“ he sighed in a disappointed tone. I clapped my hands to my face as he leaned up, widening my eyes in mock horror.  

"Oh, noes!”


	38. Chapter 38

Tom’s ankle healed just fine over the next week and soon he was back to his full hectic schedule, falling on his nose more often than not, as soon as he got home.   
He was also back onto a daytime schedule, which ought to have been less tiring, but now they had him doing wire work and fight scenes.

I worried still about the hours he was keeping, burning his candle from both ends, but he swore he’d had a word with his people about writing more downtime into his contracts. In future.

In the meantime, I did my best to be there when he dragged in, insisting that he get on the outside of a hot meal before he fell into bed. Some nights I stayed and some nights I didn’t, depending on how far into fuckweed territory his exhaustion had carried him.  We were learning to give each other the space we each needed.

One new thing. Tom had taken to massaging my hands and arms before bed. He had noticed me flexing and stretching my hands, or rubbing my forearms at the end of the day. I’ve been doing quite a lot of hand carving decorative wood accents. I’ve also, in my downtime, been working on some geometric inlay for the cherry cabinet intended for Tom’s morgue. I might be a little obsessive and perfectionist about that piece, but I want it finished. I’m anxious to give it to him, and it calms me to work on it.. 

Tom’s strong fingers massaging my hands after a long day of woodworking were heavenly. I often found myself studying him as he bent over my hands. I think he gets even more relaxation out of it than I do. I don't think I could actually orgasm simply from a hand massage, but when he rubs my favorite vanilla honey lotion into my hands...

He’ll wrap his arm around me and pull me close, reach around me to pick up a hand, and set to work, soothing and working strong thumbs into knots, stroking them out, pulling and stretching at my fingers, while I let my head loll on his shoulder, watching. I can feel the tension drain out of him as he touches me, as if the cramps he’s working out of my hands are working out of his body as well.

He finishes each hand with a kiss to my palm, and leads me to bed, stopping in the bath on the way for a quick wash and tooth cleaning. It makes me smile to think of the bedtime routine we’ve developed.

I’ll wash my face while Tom presses me against the vanity from behind, his hips holding me steady as his fingers weave nimbly through my hair, plaiting my hair for the night. Then he’ll reach around me for our toothbrushes and load them both with paste, passing mine to me. He’ll snake his arm other arm around my middle and hold me to him while we brush. 

If he’s feeling playful, he’ll spit over my shoulder into the sink and give me a toothpaste-y, sloppy kiss on the cheek before rinsing. That makes me laugh.

When we’re done, he’ll wrap an arm around my shoulders and walk me to bed, shoveling me into the linens, and climbing in behind me to be my big spoon.

Even though we are both exhausted at the end of the day and falling straight to sleep more often than not, I’m loving this comfort between us, this routine. I was enjoying this stretch of calm, busy as it was, moving from day to day with no great upheavals or chaos breaking out. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, so I was reveling in it while I could. I felt happy.

Even better are those nights when he gets home early, or when work wasn’t quite as tiring and he comes home only a little bit shattered.

“You need a proper holiday, Thomas…“ I scolded as he dragged in one evening, shaking my head over the state of him.  He rubbed tired eyes as he groaned aloud, finishing with a scrub of his face, his late day stubble rasping against his palms.

"Come on, I’ll draw you a bath.” I held out my hand. Tom stretched and smiled tiredly down at me, taking my hand.

"Thank you, darling. That would be lovely.”  He sounded a little wistful.

I put a couple of drops of lavender oil into the tub while he was undressing. A little aromatherapy wouldn’t hurt him. The room was soon filled with lavender scented steam. While he got himself into the tub I went back down to the kitchen for something to feed him. Returning to the bath, I stripped off, and nudging him forward, slid into the bathtub behind him.

“That’s my place…” he murmured.

“Not tonight, Thomas. You’re going to let me pamper you tonight.  Please?”

I tucked behind his shoulders and pulled him back against me, wrapping my legs around his waist and settling his head back on my shoulder, turning my head to kiss his temple. I reached for the soap and washed as much of him as I could reach from my position, which, in the event was only down to his navel, dammit, then poured out some shampoo into my hand.

I angled myself to the side, keeping his head safety in the crook of my arm. He slid down, wetting his hair and letting me maneuver him as I ran my hand through his hair, my fingertips massaging his scalp, enjoying the silky feel of his wet hair sliding through my fingers. Even soaking wet with water and shampoo bubbles, the curls in his longer hair sprang up all over his head.  I’ll miss his curls when he cuts his hair short again.  His eyes were half open and a lazy smile on his face as he let me wash him.

"Close your eyes.” I murmured into his ear as I dipped his head back into the warm bath water, carefully swirling the water through his hair, keeping it out of his face.  Finished, I couldn’t resist, and lifted his head on my arm, kissing him before I slid back behind him once again.

He sighed and relaxed bonelessly as I swept handfuls of the hot bath water up over his chest and neck to keep his exposed skin warm. Tom idly caressed my ankles and shins where they crossed over his abdomen. He wriggled his torso a bit, pushing his back against me, and not incidentally against my open sex.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” I tutted.  “So tell me, where will you go for your holidays? Somewhere mountainous and invigoratingly cold, spend some time skiing?”  I blew lightly across the wet skin of his chest, simulating the chill of a winter wind and watching the skin of his chest pebble with goose pimples. “Ski all day, party all night?” He actually shivered a bit. “Or somewhere warm, basking in the sun and watching the pretty girls in bikinis strolling the strand?”

I brought another warm wave of water up over his chilled skin.

“The only pretty girl I want to see in a bikini is you.” He murmured. I laughed.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I put on a bikini!” I shuddered, thinking of the surgical scars on my back, and the stretch marks on my tum.  No way, no how.

Tom’s eyes blinked open, and he twisted his head to look up at me speculatively.

"Nope, don’t even think about it, Thomas. I’ll call ‘red’ on that so fast your head will spin!”

“Hmm.  We’ll see…“  

Damn. Change the subject. Never present this man with a challenge…

I reached over the tub surround for the bowl and spoon I had brought up from the morgue.  Taking the cover off, I set the bowl of chocolate cake on his chest and scooped to bite into the spoon, feeding it to him.

"Gods darling, that’s delicious.” he moaned.  "Pudding for dinner?“

"If you like. There’s soup if you’re still hungry later. Or more cake.”  I murmured in his ear as I fed him another bite.

He moaned and wriggled with sensuous delight through every bite of cake I gave him, brushing against my open sex and sending sparks rocketing through me.  I buried my face between his shoulder blades, trying to muffle my own gasps at the occasional contact of that glorious backside with the most sensitive bits of me.  Not very successfully, I fear.  We both enjoyed his cake, if for very different reasons.  The bastard knew it, too.

“Jesus Tom,” I said as he moaned again, “you’re going to give me a hard on with that voice!”

In response he moaned louder and added a deeper note. I damn near squirmed against him.  I might not want to find out if I’m the kind of slag who can get off by rubbing myself against him like a cat on heat… Tom tipped his head up and grinned at me as I blushed.

“You’re a bad man, Thomas Hiddleston.” I scolded.

“Thank you, darling. I try.”  he purred.  Gah! That wicked voice! I tried to reach over him to pull the plug, but he was definitely in the way.

“Time to get out, prune-boy.”  I pushed at his back to move him forward so I could get out, but he didn’t budge.

“Prune-boy?” he asked me in a low voice.

I lifted his hand out of the water and displayed his waterlogged, wrinkled fingers.

“See?” I set his hand back and moved to push him forward again. It was like pushing on a brick wall.

“Tom? We need to get out now.”

“Why? I like this. A little bit of water never hurt anybody…” he trailed off, as he squirmed his back against me. I caught my breath as he brushed against my clit. Holy hell.  He did it again, the rat bastard.

“Mmm. I like this even better,” he said. The next time he moaned with me as he ground back against me.  Oh, fuck me.

“To-oom, you’re meant to be relaxing, not getting all worked up!” I cajoled.

“Oh, you’re so right Ellie,” he crooned at me.  "I’ll just rest here shall I? And let you do all the work…"  He turned and looked me in the eye, left eyebrow up and no trace of a smile. That look. That fucking look. All the oxygen evaporated out of my lungs. He wants me to…?

I fought to keep eye contact as I felt a wave of red run up my chest and over my face. Even my earlobes felt hot. He’s waiting. Watching me, my every expression. Then he turned away and deliberately pushed up against me, and stilled, lying there between my thighs. He pulled my ankles tighter around his waist and began to stroke my calves. Oh hell.  I tried to keep what few wits I had, about me.

“Well, can you at least put more hot water in?” I knew I sounded snippy, but it was the best I could do.

“Of course, darling.”  He reached over and turned the hot water on full force, fiddling with finding that perfect temperature.

“Now then, Miss Mackenzie.  You have your instructions.  You may begin.”  Oh, fuck me.  Professor Tom…

I moved tentatively against him. Oh God. Tom hummed his approval and pushed back.

Christ. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but damn, it feels good. I feel good.  I replayed that thought and a giggle escaped my mouth before I even realized I was going to laugh. I laid my forehead against Tom’s spine, trying to breathe through my nerves as I pushed my hips up, rubbing against him.

Tom stilled and his head tilted to the side, listening to me stifle my ridiculous giggling fit, before craning his head around to look at me. I bit my lip hard, trying to sober my face, but I’m afraid I failed miserably. Bless Tom, where some men might have been offended, Tom was invariably curious. If I laugh out loud randomly, he always wants to know why. It’s rather… endearing that he always wants in on the joke. However feeble my sense of humour is.

He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head.

“Well? You know you have to tell me…”  Amusement was already colouring his voice.  I went a little pinker.

“It’s just… I had one of those weird, almost déjà vu things…like a slip out of time? I don’t know. But it just suddenly occurred to me that… I’m happy.”  I muttered into the back of his neck.  "You are here and that makes me happy… You are feeling better and that makes me happy…“ I giggled again.  "Plus, there’s how freaking silly I feel about rubbing up on you in a sloshing bathtub!”

Tom glanced down and grinned at the water rippling in short waves around us, a wicked look in his eye as he looked around at me.  Picking up my right hand, he fit his hand over the back of it, his fingertips sliding between mine and setting them on his chest, guiding our hands down the wet, warm skin of his chest and belly, to brush teasingly over his stirring cock…

I didn’t know who he was teasing, me or himself, but oh, the velvet of his cock against my fingertips… We both took identical shuddering breaths at the touch. I buried my face in his shoulder blades and lost myself in the overwhelming sensations of the feel of his heavy cock in my hand, the way his hips were grinding back into my own, the scent of his warmed skin…I licked the trailing bead of sweat off his shoulder blade, tasting him.

He drew my palm, only my palm, lightly up his shaft.  My fingers tried, purely out of instinct, to curl around him, but his hand grasped and controlled mine.  His hands are so large, completely enveloping mine.  I surrendered and let Tom run the show.

Just as I thought that, Tom pushed his feet against the far end of the tub and ground his arse into my groin.  I gasped and flinched as wet, slick skin and firm muscle swiped over my swollen clit, the sensation either pain or pleasure, I had no idea which.  But I did want more.

“God, you feel so hot against my skin, darling.  So good…” Tom groaned as he pushed back again.  I should have felt trapped between his body and the bathtub wall.  With anyone else at all, I would have.  But I only feel sheltered and cherished with Tom. I so adore when he cages me in with his body.  Nothing and no one can hurt me when he does this.  I am safe.  All the world, with the exception of Tom, ceases to exist. Because I know, should I look into his eyes, I would clearly see that, for him, everything outside of me has likewise ceased to exist.  My heart stuttered.

Tom’s thumb pried mine away from my palm, setting the pad of my thumb squarely on top of the bead of pre-cum at his slit, hissing as I moved my thumb, to the limit he allowed, to caress his sensitive slit.  I felt a fast tremor shake his hand- and mine, before he brought my thumb to glide through that bead of moisture and around his glans.    
If I could only have reached my other hand, I would have pulled his foreskin the rest of the way back, but my arms were simply not long enough in this position.

I closed my eyes at the unbelievable silky texture of his cockhead, lubricated with his own tribute.  My hips thrust helplessly against him simply in some autonomic response to the feel of my thumb gliding over and around his glans.

Tom lifted our hands for a firmer stroke down his shaft, which trailed off at his balls.  He curved my hand to cup them, letting their warm weight rest in my palm.  Guiding my fingertips, Tom runs our fingers over the tightening skin of his sac as he stutters out a breath at our touch.  He directed my fingertips to lightly stroke the area just behind his balls for a long moment.

I opened my eyes and gradually focused on Tom’s back a few inches from my nose.  More specifically on the drop of sweat that is slowly making it’s way down from his neck and between his shoulders. It was so hot and humid, there in the bath.  I could feel a bead of sweat trickling down my own cheek.

At last Tom drew our hands up his length and wrapped my fingers around his shaft, beginning a slow rhythm that pleased him, judging by the noises coming from him, and the way his hips shifted and pushed into my hand.

His head lolled back on his neck, his eyes closed, eyelashes spiked by the water and fluttering on his cheek.

His ear was just within reach of my lips. I let out a needy little noise as I latched on and swiped my tongue over the lobe and up the shell of his ear.  Tom groaned loudly, his hand contracted over my own, tightening our grip on his cock.

I slipped my free hand under his arm, around his ribs, to his chest, stoking the slick skin and hard muscle that I found there.  My fingers found his nipple, my blunt nails dragging over the hard point.

“Fuck!”  His voice exploded in the quiet room, reverberating and echoing from the bathroom walls as his back arched to push his chest up into my plucking and scraping fingers. His other hand slid up the back of my thigh, drawing my hips tight around him, grinding against my core, my poor swollen clit bearing the brunt, nearly driving me out of my mind with need.

Tom’s hand convulsed over mine, tighting my grip and moving us to stroke him faster.  Every second or third up stroke he twisted our palms over and around his cockhead and back down.  I could feel his breath coming shorter, and the muscles in his back flexing against my breasts. The movements of our hands transferred through his body to torment my nipples, and my own breath came harsher.

“Oh Ellie!  Help me, Ellie..! ”  he moaned, his whole body beginning to strain upwards into our hands, his words lighting a fire in my head.  But I have no way to help him, my hand is a surrendered prisoner, no will of it’s own, nearly crushed between his hand and his rock hard length.

“Please, Tom, please… I want it… So close, please can I have it?” I begged, pleading in his ear.

I bit his shoulder, being careful not to break the skin, but getting a firm hold.  Tom came then with a great shout, his hips lifted free of the water, and hot come spurting over our hands. His body was locked, rigid, crushing me against the bathtub, my ribs creaking, all my air running out as he strained upward, convulsing twice more before going limp.  I was finally able to drag in a gasping breath.

Tom was up and turning in a flash, horror written on his face.

“Ellie! My god, are you all right?!  Did I hurt you??” His hands moving frantically over my body.  I laughed, setting my hand on his cheek in reassurance.

“I’m fine!  A little squashed, but fine!” Relief flooded his face and he gasped as he slumped, breathing hard, his forehead resting on my shoulder and hands gripping my upper arms.

“I’m so sorry, darling girl.” He muttered in apology.  He lifted his head and blinked several times, obviously trying to clear his head of the muzziness of his orgasm and his little adrenaline rush.

“Well, we won’t be doing that again!” he said sternly.  I giggled.  As if it was all my idea..!

“Are you kidding me?!  That was…holy wow, Tom!” I jibed.

“Nevertheless.” he growled.

Tom pushed up and stood with a powerful thrust of his thighs, at which I was fortunate enough to be eye level.  Dear god. Tom stepped out and held his hands out to me, lifting me over the rim of the bathtub and onto the mat.

He pulled a large towel around me, snuggling it around my shoulders and kissing my forehead.  Grabbing a towel for himself, he vigorously rubbed over his dripping body. So unselfconscious. I watched him bend from the waist, drying his mile long legs.  I shivered in my towel, goose pimples racing over me, and not entirely due to chill, either, as I considered licking along those strong, lithe muscles.

I was almost transfixed when he glanced up and caught me staring. I’m fairly sure that I wasn’t actually drooling. That beautiful toothy grin broke out on his face and his eyes danced. I swear he can sometimes read my mind.  He dropped his towel and snatched mine away, laughing when I squeaked in surprise.

“My naughty little voyeuse… Let’s get you dry.”  He proceeded to dry me very much less vigorously than he had dried himself, softly dragging the towel around my breasts.  How in fuck’s name does he turn drying me into a seduction? Oh right. He’s Tom, so he always goes a step further. 

I looked down at his upturned face fondly.  Always good value… He paid attention to every square inch of my skin, each drop of water, blotting my pebbled skin gently, from face to toes and back up. When he was finished he leaned up from his knees and swirled his tongue into my navel. I jumped and laughed at the unexpected heat and tickle.

Tom’s hand came up and settled on my lower back, pressing me forward and holding me as he dipped his head and licked a damp stripe from my pubic bone to my navel that left me gasping. Fuck, that feels… I glanced down and saw Tom staring at my pussy. I reacted unthinkingly, my breath hitching.

“Tom…” I tried to twist away. Tom’s eyes darkened and his brow snapped down over his nose, looking at me severely. Then he stood and scooped me up, making me squeak in surprise, carrying me to the bed and climbing up, settling me in his lap. Sometimes he does this because he’s the one needing comfort.

But not this time. He pinned me with those blue eyes, setting a finger under my chin, keeping my head up and eyes on him.

“Ellie. I told you. I don’t give a flying damn about those scars.”  He pulled at my chin when I averted my eyes, dipping his head and seeking my gaze, holding me in place.  
“They’re just scars, love. I had a life before I met you, and I have scars, as well.  They’re just…life.” he said patiently.

I just. I can’t. I can’t bear for him to really look at them, to discern the individual tooth marks, to pay attention to the physical manifestation of my…failure.  A tear rolled down my cheek.  His thumb brushed it away.

“I had hoped that we had got past this, love, but evidently not,” he said gently.  "What are we going to do about this, Ellie?“  I snorted and made a lame joke, rolling my face into his shoulder, slightly muffling my voice.

"Tattoo it all magenta?”  Tom was silent and still for a long moment.  I lifted my head back to see his expression.

Tom blinked at me, then his face lit up and he grabbed my upper arms.

“Ellie, you’re brilliant! That’s it!”  He threw his head back and laughed. I panicked a little. Did he think I was being serious??

“Wait, Tom? I was only joking, I really don’t want to go through my life with a baboon’s hind quarters tattooed on my…”  He laughed.

“No, of course not! But how about, well, something pretty that will cover and blend your scars?”  His eyes wandered around the room vaguely, clearly imagining.  
“Possibly… like your bedposts?”

I said slowly, “You, you want me to get vines and leaves tattooed over my scars to hide them?”

“No!” Tom shook his head vehemently. “No, absolutely not!  I want you to think about whether you would be more comfortable with them if you could make them part of something you create that you think is beautiful!  Why not incorporate your scars into body art of your own design?  I’m sure we could find a more than competent tattoo artist for your work.“

I thought about the carvings on my bed. I love them. I often find myself absently tracing a finger along them as I think. I closed my eyes and considered the dogwood flowers and ivy leaves carved on my headboard.  I shivered. Then I looked at Tom.

"That… that might…”

A smile broke out on his face and he hugged me to him.

“Don’t decide yet,” he murmured. “Take your time and think about it for a bit, right? For what it’s worth,” he pulled my head up again, “I think it could be beautiful.” He paused, his brow furrowed for a moment.

“You understand, don’t you Ellie, that I think you’re beautiful just as you are? If you do this, it needs to be because you will be more comfortable and happier.” 

I grinned at him, struck by a thought.

“Have you considered, Mr. fix-it, that if I do this, there’s bound to be some healing time when you won’t be allowed to touch…?”  He flashed a smile and melodramatically put a hand on his forehead.

“See what I’m willing to give up for your happiness?” His eyes twinkled.  I rolled mine.

“Somehow, I don’t really think you’ll be giving up much.” I growled, trying to hide my grin.

...I’ll tell him about the circle of teeth marks on the back of his shoulder later.

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally going to ask this question of my readers about ao3, which has nothing to do with the story. I'm from tumblr (sorry) but I don't understand the kudos convention here. Folks over there seem to hit the like button more frequently. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining! But what's the deal here? I'm getting roughly 100 hits on each new chapter, but only 1 or 2 kudos? Is that because ao3 only allows one kudo per story, or because folks don't like the story, or because most folks don't bother to hit the kudo button?  
> Enquiring minds want to know! Please tell me?  
> And is that a rude question to ask?

Tom and I strolled home after dinner, arm in arm through the park, enjoying the last of the seasons’ warmth. The temps had begun to cool, now that autumn was settling in. I snuggled into his side, feeling content.

There weren’t many people about, aside from a couple of late dog walkers, to whom Tom offered a nod and a polite good evening.  We strolled on, silently enjoying the waning, green scents of the end of summer and the musty scents of autumn leaves, mixed with the omnipresent smells of the city. I watched our feet, feeling peaceful, my ratty old trainers taking two steps to his long grey suede stride.  My feet look tiny next to his, and-

“Ellie…” Tom pulled his arm from mine, and there was something wary in his voice.  I looked up curiously at him, but he was staring intently down the path.

My eyes went past him to two men approaching. There was something wrong… What? I realised  their expressions were off, there was aggression and determination in their faces, and they were both focused intently on us.  On Tom. But not like fans…

“Ellie, run!” Tom barked, stepping between me and the oncoming apparent threat, giving me a shove away as he turned and stepped forward towards the oncoming men. 

Thugs.  Shit!

I stared, immobilized for a second…was this really happening?? Tom’s muscles were bunching across his shoulders and his hands, fists, came up. Fuck me, this was really happening!

I glanced behind me, but my few seconds hesitation had cost me any lead I might have had. Too damn late to run.  But I wouldn’t have left Tom to face them down alone, anyway. Adrenaline suddenly flooded my system, lighting me up and firing up my brain. My thoughts flew at double speed, as if time had stretched out. I could hear my heart banging in my chest.

There were two of them, one clearly planning to jump Tom, leaving the second free to go after me, his eyes sneeringly trained on me. 

‘Never turn your back on aggression… Pay attention to your opponent… Watch his eyes…’ Sensei’s words echoed in my head. I felt my body slide automatically into readiness, as I grounded and centred myself.  All this in mere fractions of a second.

The first man headed straight for Tom, his eyes intent and dangerous. He was big, not as tall as Tom, but huge nevertheless, mostly fat over muscle, as if he were a former athlete gone to seed. God, the weirdest things will flash through your head when the adrenaline starts flowing! I heard Sensei’s voice echoing in my ear again.  'Get your head in the game, girl!’  Right.

I darted around Tom, vaguely hearing him shout my name frantically. I stepped into the first man’s path, rather than away, which startled him. I didn’t even think about it, my body automatically flowing into the defensive moves so ingrained in muscle memory. As the man’s body reacted to my unexpected move he was briefly unbalanced, caught between forward momentum and an autonomic flinch to avoid me, since his focus had been Tom.

“Oi!” The bastard shouted as my hands closed on his shirt, pulling him further off balance.  He was surprised and outraged that his easy target… wasn’t so easy.  He definitely wasn’t prepared for me to yank him toward me. I got a brief, thank god, whiff of sour body odor and some seriously nasty cheap cologne. Anger roared through me at the balls of this arsehole attacking me. Attacking Tom! Balls… Yeah.

Letting one hand go, I snapped my elbow up into his face, connecting with his cheekbone, and then thrust my knee up hard into his balls with a grunt, using his momentum to sling him into the path of his fellow arsehole. His bellow turned into a high squeal of pain and he collapsed, folding around his damaged goods and groaning.

The other bastard was knocked sideways, right into Tom’s fist in his face. Arsehole number one was down on the ground clutching his balls and wheezing hard. Tom followed up with a powerful jab right into arsehole number two’s solar plexus, and his breath whooshed out of him. He went down hard, sprawling over his fellow. I moved in fast to deliver a vicious kick to his balls for good measure, Sensei’s voice reminding me to make sure my opponent stayed down so that I could make a clean escape.

Tom growled, his fists balled, advancing on the pair on the ground. God, if he’d been seen, by the public or the police..!  He is the one with everything to lose, and it could so easily be taken from him. I snatched Tom’s elbow and yanked him back.

“No Tom, please!  Let’s just go!”

Tom threw me an indecipherable look, and promptly took off, his longer legs outpacing mine quickly, which hardly mattered as he had a firm grip on my wrist, towing me behind with infuriating ease. I think my feet may have only touched ground every third step or so. Jesus, running sucks large!  I clutched at my painfully bouncing tits with my free arm as Tom pulled me along.

I glanced back just before we turned the corner to see if the thugs were following, finding them still on the ground, both curled around their balls, groaning. They ought to be grateful that I was in trainers not heels, or there would have been blood! I sipped a tiny bit of gloating victory.  As it was, I was certain neither of them would be having a decent wank for quite a few days! Good.  Bastards.

A couple walked out the open door of a pub just as we came around the corner, and Tom snatched for the closing door, pulling me through and stopping just inside the door to survey the room, breathing heavily.  He turned to me, his eyes sliding over my body, a quick survey to make sure I was all right. I looked into his eyes and they blazed.

“I told you to run…” Tom growled. Yep.  I’d pissed off the Dom but good.  Fuck!  He looked down at me grimly, his eyes burning and his mouth doing that thing.  He was biting the inside of his cheek to maintain his cool.

I opened my mouth to reply, though at that second, I had no idea what I was going to say.  Tom shook his head and glanced around the busy pub.

“Don’t. Not here. But we will talk about this.” Shit, could that be any more ominous?

I don’t know how that smouldering look could make me feel both angry and terrified at the same time. Not to mention turned on so hard… Fuck, adrenaline is a weird thing!  I wiped sweat off my forehead as my heart and panting began to slow.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, as my eyes flicked around the pub he had pulled us into, nervously alert amid the noisy, almost closing-time atmosphere. No one took any particular notice of us as Tom firmly gripped my arm just above my elbow and guided us to a table that has just been vacated by a group of four laughing men.

He steered me carefully onto the bench seat, sliding in behind me, his hip nudging mine over to make room. I looked up as he sat, his eyes were electric, scanning my face. 

Arm wrapping around me, he pulled me tight against his side.  He stared down at me for the longest moment. And then he spoke as if his words were dragged reluctantly out over broken glass.

“Christ, you terrified me… But you were amazing, Ellie.”

I blinked up at him in astonishment and then my stomach swooped and my eyes flooded with tears. A sob burst from me. Both hard arms went around me, holding me tightly and rocking a bit, his hand at the back of my head, holding me to his shoulder.  Shit, shit, shit.

“Shh, love. It’s all over now…”

Quickly burying my face into his chest to muffle my noise, I sobbed again in thankfulness, that he was not hurt, telling myself he’s okay, we were both okay, entirely shaken, not stirred.  God.  Any man less extraordinary… My fingers crept to his shirt and clutched the fabric over his chest as I tried to pull myself together with great lungfuls of air. 

It’s just the adrenaline rush and the let down from the past 10 minutes, I told myself. But I knew that wasn’t all. There was still the consequences to face. I’d disobeyed him…  
Rubbing my wet cheeks against his shirt-clad warm chest, I lifted my head and looked into his face. Tom’s long fingers stroked my cheek as he stared down into my eyes. I watched as his eyes hardened.

“Are, are you going to…call the police?” I asked in a small voice.  I had to know.  I can’t be involved with the police.  The very thought of what they might find in my background terrifies me. Shit. I should have asked him not to call, not what he’s going to do, but it’s too late now. I bit my lip and thought very hard at him, Please say no, please say no, please say no…

Tom sat back and blew out a thinking breath, his eyes on me.  His automatic nod changed to an inquiring head tilt as he watched me twist my fingers nervously. His jaw clenched for a moment.

“I… think not. I’d just as soon take you home. The police are likely to keep us up half the night with questions and paperwork.”  His eyes darkened.

“Besides, I want you so badly right now, it’s all I can do not to push you down on this bench and bury myself in you, right here, in front of all these good people…”  
I felt relief drain my fears away, and a fire lit in my belly. Thank god.

“Tom?” I managed slightly above a whisper.

“Yes, love?” He leaned away to watch my expression.

“Please…” the words caught in my throat before I forced them out. My face flamed.  "Will… please, will you take me home and fuck me?“ I choked out.

Tom’s eyelids drooped and his mouth curled in a small, predatory smile.

"Oh yes, I think I will.” He almost made it sound like a threat, and my core clenched at the sound.

He stood and pulled me up, his hand going into the back of my hair as he leaned down to kiss me deeply. Turning, he drew me behind him by the hand through the late-night crowd and out the door of the pub, pausing just outside to assess the street.

I looked around the other way, seeking our attackers, but they were long gone. I nevertheless felt a prickling along my neck, feeling hyper aware. My hand trembled in his.  I can defend myself, and him, (I did, dammit!) but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t freaked out!

He pulled my arm around his waist, anchoring my arm there with his hand, and tugged me close, his other arm lying securely across my shoulders.  I could feel the tension in his arms.

I glanced up at his face and watched as he surveyed the area, wary for threats, before setting off in the direction of his, only three blocks away. More people were about now, as the pubs were just beginning to close. Tom stayed silent and alert, guiding us to his and letting us through his door, his key scratching loudly at the lock.

Drawing me through the door, he pushed it shut, and the next thing I knew, he was pushing me up against it’s hard surface. I heard the deadbolt click shut next to my ear as his mouth descended on mine.

“My God, I need to fuck you so hard…”  My knees went weak.  Oh god, yes please…

Tom’s hands were buried in my hair as he kissed me, ravaging my mouth possessively, pulling me up on my toes and my body tight against him, pushing his erection against my belly.  When he stepped back he pushed me to slide to my knees against the door. I needed him in my mouth, so, so desperately.

I looked up at him as my hands worked his belt and trousers open, he stared down at me, his gaze hooded and hungry. Oh please…

At last my fumbling fingers freed him and I looked up for permission.

He nodded.

My eyes went to the rampant cock in front of me, my fingers tracing its length, lingering on the fold of his foreskin. His hands tightened in my hair, pulling me close… close enough to taste.

Lips parting, my tongue slipped out to take the drop of fluid waiting for me, his flavor bursting on my tongue, both familiar and dearest ambrosia. I licked a long stripe from his root to tip.

“Now, Ellie…”  he groaned. I slipped him through tight lips, tongue massaging the hard length of him, until his curls brushed my nose. I paused, swallowing around him, feeling my tongue and throat muscles contract and caress his velvet skin.  So smooth, so soft, yet so very heavy and solid.

I drew back slowly, drawing air in as his length cleared my airway, and began to suckle voraciously at his tip. Tom’s hands spasmed in my hair as he cried out suddenly, startling me into letting go instantly in the fear that I’d hurt him.

“Fuck, no!!  Don’t stop Ellie!” His hips jutted up, that glorious cock battered itself against my lips, demanding entrance urgently.

I hurriedly opened my mouth and met his next desperate thrust, swallowing around him. Dear god, the heavy velvet glide of him over my tongue, the firm nudge at the back of my throat felt so exquisite. I tilted my head and swallowed again, relaxing and letting him all the way into my throat.

Tom groaned and held my head gently, slowly thrusting into my throat and drawing out equally slowly, his own breath held until he heard me take a breath around him.  My awareness narrowed to the hard, hard velvet filling my mouth, sliding over my tongue, and the overwhelming male musk of him filling my head with every breath.

Lifting my eyes, I saw that his head was thrown right back, all I could see of him was his long neck, his Adam’s apple and the underside of his sharp jaw. I watched his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his throat, before he lifted his head, his eyes fluttered open and he looked down at me, his eyes hazy.

His hands tightened around my skull and I braced myself for the next plunge, but to my surprise he drew himself from my mouth and dropped to his knees in front of me. James would have-No! I tried to shove thoughts of the arsehole away from me.  Tom’s mouth sought mine, his tongue diving in, tasting himself on my tongue. This…this is what I needed.

“Brilliant Ellie…” He muttered against my mouth. I shuddered, wanting him, and not James’s lurking shade in my head. Why the fuck does he keep rearing his..?  My hands clutched at Tom’s shirt fearfully as my head spun briefly.  God, the adrenaline let down is still messing with my head.

Tom pulled away and stood, tucking himself back into his trousers, zipping up, but not doing up his belt, offering me a hand to pull me to my feet. He turned with my hand in his and drew me behind him as he walked us upstairs to his bedroom door.  Stopping, his eyes flicked down to meet mine.

It was his bedroom, but he stopped at the threshold, holding his hand out in invitation. This was new… Tom had never asked my explicit permission to take me into his room before. I looked up at his eyes, hooded and suddenly dangerous.

My breath caught in my throat at the look in his eyes, but I knew beyond any doubt that I needed to know what that look meant.

I carefully sidled past him into his room, and gasped as I felt his hand grip the nape of my neck. He hustled me to his bedside and pushed my head down onto the soft blue duvet.

Tom reached around my hips with his other hand and quickly yanked my trouser button and fly open, shoving them to my feet. I whined in desperation as his hand left me and I heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle and his zipper being lowered. His hand quickly returned to me, his fingers searching for and finding my entrance. I cried out as his fingers thrust home in a fast wet glide.

“Fuck, Tom!

"Quiet!” His fingers withdrew and slapped my arse sharply. I bit my lip to hold back my desperate whimper. His other hand gripped my hair, holding my head to the bed.

Tom knocked me sprawling on the bed when he thrust his cock into me, I cried out as he followed me down, driving his hips into me from behind. Fucking hell. Fucking glorious hell…

Tom began to piston into me, his hand moving between my shoulder blades, holding me down against the bed, his other hand gripping my hip to hold me steady at the angle he wanted, his friction igniting the hot coil in my belly as he took what he needed from me.

“I told you to run, Ellie.“ He grunted into my ear. His teeth closed briefly on the back of my neck and I stiffened, but he did no more than suck my skin between his teeth for a couple of thrusts, his breath harsh in my ear, before his head lifted.  He slapped my hip and grunted as he drove himself hard into me.

"Never!” I gasped.

“No?” he growled.  “You carelessly put yourself in danger, and then you disobeyed me!  It is NOT your job to try to protect me!”

“Yes! Yes it is!“ I gasped out, my body pinned to the bed, contradicting him defiantly.

Tom reared up and flipped me over, snatching my hands and raising them above my head, his cock plunging back into me without missing a beat. Oh god, he was so fierce, fucking into me hard. I loved this so much… god, I felt so possessed, so owned, so needed…  my head swirled with my own pounding need.

Tom’s head fell to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut, a tight grimace on his face, and then he was spilling inside me, his hips pulsing and mouth clamped around a shout, feeling the hot wave wash through me. A bare moment later Tom pulled abruptly out of me, and rolled to the side, yanking me on top of him as he panted.

One arm wrapped around me, holding me in place on his chest, the other pulled my leg up and opened me wide, his fingers pushing between us to slide through my folds.  God.

His come dripped out of me, wetting his fingers as he plunged them into me, fucking me with his hand, his thumb riding over my clit, sending flashes of light dancing behind my tightly closed eyelids. I rode his hand deliriously, rushing up on my climax.

"Ellie…look at me…” he demanded harshly. “…come for me.  Right. Fucking. Now!” I lifted my head and forced my eyes open, gaze fixed to his as with three more hard thrusts I came on his fingers, my breath stuttering as hard as my hips. His grey-blue eyes owned my whole world as my body convulsed and vibrated.  Our coupling was swift and brutal, exactly as I needed it after the night’s events.

When the haze cleared at last from my mind, I realized that he was still watching me, poised, loomimg over me as if ready to pounce.  I didn’t stop to wonder how it could feel like he was looming over me when he was the one on the bottom. Too close!  All my muscles tensed up and I cringed away from him as much as I could with his steel hard arms banded around me, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

He studied me expressionlessly for a long moment.  I felt like a bug on a pin.  I’ve never been claustrophobic, but I began to understand the clawing sensation that Sharon had described to me. I needed to be away right now!

Tom’s eyes chilled right down and he abruptly pushed me off, turning my body and setting me on my knees. Tom’s hand shifted to the back of my neck and he pushed my head down against the bed.

“Tom, I-“  He interrupted me in a cold voice.    

“Don’t talk right now, Elena.”  I froze.  God, he never calls me ‘Elena’, except when he’s dead serious.  Or dead angry?  Shit.  I felt my eyes well with tears that I tried to blink away uselessly.  Fuck.  My sinuses clogged instantly and I sniffled like some pitiful little girl.

When Mr. Communication stops communicating…it’s bad.  I glanced up at his implacable face and quickly down, cringing submissively.  I don’t know what just happened.    
He who must not be named would shout and rage at me for imagined infractions.  But this time I knew my infraction, my disobedience was very real, and absolutely on purpose.  I just don’t see that I could have done anything else.  

But god, this cold silent fury of Tom's at my disobedience is utterly terrifying.  I tried hard to be still and silent, and harder still not to cringe away as I awaited my fate, but I couldn’t stop my trembling.  Tom’s hand still held the nape of my neck firmly, and I knew he could feel the tremors running through my body.

“Ellie, you broke two rules this evening,“ he growled. "You put yourself in danger.  And you disobeyed me.”

I nearly opened my mouth to defend my actions, before I remembered.  Never try to defend yourself.  It makes the beatings much, much worse.  I knelt there, my arse high in the cooling air, my head pinned to the bed by Tom’s hard hand, feeling the fear race through me.  Was he going to punish me?  

Don’t be stupid.  Of course he was going to punish me.  I broke the rules.

“You’re going to stay right here, exactly like this, and think about what you did.” he said severely.

Tom gave the back of my neck a squeeze in warning and removed his hand, stepping back.  He didn’t move, waiting for god knows what, but I could feel his disapproving eyes boring into my back.

I felt the skin tighten over my back in expectation of a blow, my muscles coiling tighter and tighter, and not anticipation, but in dread.

“Don’t move, Ellie.”  He warned one last time, and he left me there by myself, listening to his footsteps thump hard down the stairs.

God. He’d left me to stew.  My breath came shorter as my fear of the consequences grew. The arsehole would have beaten me raw for so blatantly disobeying him.  Hell, he’d have beaten me raw for saving him from those thugs.  He’d have been furious and offended to be rescued by a mere woman. I was only ever a fuckhole to him.  And fuckholes don’t kick muggers in the balls.

But Tom… I never thought Tom would be one to be angry at me for doing what was necessary.  I heard something crash to the floor downstairs, and I flinched. I knew he’d thrown something in his anger, broken something.  ...Instead of me?

Tom…Tom is not James. I trembled, but forced myself to remember that Tom might punish me… but he wouldn’t cripple me. Really.

I tried to calm myself down, to rid myself of my terror, running through Ryan’s breathing exercises, relaxing my muscles and blanking my mind.  I concentrated on breathing in the scent of Tom on the sheets under my head, slowly in for a count of ten, slowly out for a count of ten.  Over and over.  Nothing exists but my breath, my heartbeat, and the soothing scent of Tom.

At last my trembling abated and my fear slowly receded as I reminded myself over and over that this is Tom, not the arsehole.  Tom would never beat me the way he had. Never.

One thought kept intruding though.  Tom had ordered me to think about what I’d done.

Tom had kept me safe… even from myself. If he hadn’t been there, who knows what I might have done to those men?  Like Michael…  My throat closed, and I swallowed around the hard knot.   But knowing Tom was there, and that I needed to get him away before either of the bastards could come after him again, or before he was recognised…  God, what a disaster that could have been!

No, I’d done the right thing, dammit!  I felt my mouth set in a mulish line.

Well, what had I done that was so terrible, for fuck’s sake?  He said I’d broken two rules, but dammit, I hadn’t!  I’d only broken one rule.  I had disobeyed his order to run. And I’d helped to save his sorry arse!

But I had not done anything to put myself in danger!  Shit! I was only walking along a goddamn public walkway, minding my own goddamn business!  How is that putting myself in danger?!  I didn’t do anything to invite those two to have a go! …Fuck, this is so unfair!

My emotions had been shifting wildly all evening since the attack, cycling from terror to lust to terror, and now to anger.  I was trembling with my fury.  More tears spilled down my cheeks unbidden, and I buried my face in the sheets, letting them silently absorb my furious tears.  

How could Tom blame me for defending him?!  Defending myself??  He’s being completely unreasonable, I thought rebelliously.  But I’ll be damned if I’ll let him know how much his unfairness hurts.  I gritted my teeth, so fucking angry.  He wants my silence?  He’ll get it. In fucking spades.

I set myself to endure whatever he planned to do to me for the high crime of saving his butt.  Just like I had endured James’s unjust rages.  I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.  
I determined not to give Tom the satisfaction of pleading my case.  I would keep quiet and submit to his punishment, even though the injustice rankled. I did, after all, disobey him. I gritted my teeth.  I’d do it again, too!

Despair welled up inside me as I considered the possibility that Tom was not the man I’d thought he was.  The Tom I thought I knew wouldn’t punish me for something I didn’t do, wouldn’t make up some bullshit reason to blame me, just so he could beat on me to relieve his own feelings…

I began to cry in earnest, trying to smother my sobs in Tom’s sheets at the devastation I felt at these revelations.

Suddenly Tom was there, yanking my head up by my hair.

“I don’t care to be manipulated by female tears!” he said coldly.  

A massive, stinging slap slammed into my backside and I screamed, both at the pain, and at the unexpectedness of it, red sheeting across my vision.  Christ, I had thought I was prepared to go through with this, but fuck no, I couldn’t do it!

“Red!” I screeched.  “Red!”  Tom instantly let go my hair.  My temper burst into fire, obliterating my sorrow. He thought I was trying to manipulate him with my tears?? Fuck him!  I scrambled away, turning to shout at him.

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, goddammit!”  I dashed a hand across my tears and shoved my hair out of my face, glaring at him.  “I didn’t do anything wrong!  I won’t let you-“

Tom stood next to the bed, relief writ large on his face and shoulders slumping.

“Thank god.” he muttered.

Wait.  What?  I stared at him, my back pressed against his headboard and mouth hanging open, gaping at him, tears, and no doubt snot, smearing my face.

Tom sat heavily on the edge of the bed and scrubbed at his face.  When he looked up at me his eyes were red, and there were clear signs of strain around his grim mouth, unhappiness in his eyes. He held his hand out to me, waiting patiently for me to take it as I watched him warily, trying to figure out what had just happened. But my confusion at his sudden unexpected reversal held me rigidly in place against the headboard.

“You said Red, love.”  Tom told me gently.  “The scene is over.  You…you did beautifully.”  His lips quirked wryly.  “Though I did rather expect you to call ‘Fuckweed’.  But ‘Red’ will do.”  He sighed and smiled tiredly.  “Thank you, darling girl.”

I blinked, still not understanding, feeling the ground shifting under me.  I couldn’t stop staring at him, still trying to process what had just happened, and not really getting very far.

Tom dropped his hand and my heart dropped too.  Did I hesitate too long?  A small smile curled his mouth. He lay back, belly up at my knees, looking up at me.  I flinched when he reached up,  gently stroking my cheek with the back of his knuckles, soft eyes never leaving my face.  His thumb traced my lower lip, until I relaxed.

Moving his hand to the back of my neck, he coaxed me gently down on top of him, for a kiss.  Arranging my legs across his torso to his satisfaction, he pulled my hands around his neck, and rolled up to stand with me in his arms. Oh, here we go.  Now he wants to talk. He nearly always moves us to another room if he wants to talk about a scene.  At his, this usually means he’ll carry me downstairs to the lounge.

Tom smiled down at me in amusement at my obvious reluctance, pecking me on the lips before striding into the hallway and carefully down the stairs. I held my breath for the entire descent as I clutched at him, holding myself rigidly immobile.  I definitely shuddered in relief as I drew breath again at the bottom of the stairs.

I hate when he carries me down the stairs, utterly certain with every step that he will miss his footing and kill us both, and unutterably relieved every time when we arrive safely at the foot. His self confidence and strength when he carries me is something that I’ve come to accept and mostly relax into, but carrying me down the stairs tests my faith in him every time.

And this time it certainly supplanted my immediate emotional turmoil, the relief of being safely at the bottom of the stairs making me limp and pliant, as it does every time. Something he knows, and uses, the rat, to distract me from thinking too hard.

He carried me to the sofa and sat with me in his lap, pulling a blanket draped over the back around to cover me, tucking it over us both and rubbing my back.  There was an unopened bottle of water on the table beside the sofa.  Tom picked it up, opening it and handing it to me.

"Drink.” he ordered.

I looked at the bottle, looked at the side table, the blanket wrapped around me, and back at him.  Putting all the pieces together.  The bottle was still refrigerator cold.  Had the bastard planned all this?  But why?  And crap, how much of the night’s events had he planned?  Cold realisation washed over me.

“Oh my god Tom, you didn’t orchestrate those bastards tonight, did you?!”  I demanded urgently, “Because I wasn’t pulling my punches!  Oh, shit!”  I tried to lurch upright, but his arms held me still.  He chuckled.

“No, relax darling!  Of course I didn’t script all that.  Those two really were muggers, and you really did legitimately kick their bollocks into their throats!” he said admiringly.  "Now drink your water.“  He nudged the bottle in my hand to my mouth. I went limp in relief.

One taste of the water, and I realized how thirsty all those tears and spinning emotions had left me.  I quickly guzzled half the cold water down.

Tom’s hand shifted to the back of my neck, tangling in my curls and lifted my face into his kiss, his lips hot against my frigid ones, sweetly coaxing me into some semblance of calm. As I settled and he released me, I snuggled into his neck, breathing his scent deeply into my lungs and relaxing.

My head was still spinning with all my adrenaline fueled emotions, but I could feel the whirlpool slowing at last.  I just need some time to get my head together.  Tom however, is adept at digging around in there to get my crap into the light of day, before I can get it all properly buried.  Damn.  I tried to turn my head away, but his fingers grasped my chin and held me fast.  Fuck, I wasn’t ready for this.

“Now tell me, darling.” he prodded calmly.

"You don’t ask much!”

The corner of his mouth twitched up, and he dropped a kiss on my lips.

“Only everything, darling girl.” His tone was dead serious, but his eyes were soft on me.

“Just so you know, I kinda hate you right now.” I muttered.

“Tomorrow, after you’ve had a think… tomorrow, you can tell me if you still hate me.”  He drew a finger down my cheek.  "For now, I want you to tell me what was going on in that head of yours while I was out of the room.”

I grimaced and swallowed hard. Pull up your big girl knickers, dammit… 

The whole scene ran past my mind’s eye.  I gritted my teeth.  It might have been nice to know that it WAS a scene. Of course, that would have negated his whole effort.  I shivered.  God, my emotions had been all over the place.  And still were, I guess. I looked up helplessly.  I didn’t even know where to begin.

“Fine.  I’ll start.” His voice hardened. “You broke the rules.  Don’t we have a rule that you won’t put yourself in danger?”

I looked into his grim face and wrenched myself upright, forgetting my vow not to defend myself, pushing my hair back with one hand, suddenly angry again. Is he fucking kidding me?!

“Tom, I didn’t! I didn’t put myself in danger!  All I did was walk through the damn park! With you!  I didn’t invite those bastards to have a go!” I gulped and pushed the fresh anger at the injustice of being blamed for being attacked.

“I know darling.  You didn’t do anything wrong.” He said calmly, taking the wind out of my sails.  I blinked at him. Shit.  I was so confused. But at least relieved that he wasn’t angry with me for something I didn’t do.  Still…

“But…I did disobey your order to run. I’m sorry…no, not sorry…“ I fumbled for words, biting my lip briefly.  "I apologise for disobeying you.  But I’m not sorry. I’m not!”  
Tom nodded.

“Ellie…” He brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes searching mine.  "You were amazing tonight.  But I have never been so terrified in my life as seeing you in danger, taking on a man twice your size. You nearly gave me heart failure, love.“  His voice was rough as he talked, his face pushed back into my hair.

I reached up a hand to soothe him, stroking his jaw and feeling the rigid knot there relax a bit as he unclenched his teeth, and a warm gust of breath fanned out over my neck.

"And then upstairs… I was too rough with you.  I shouldn’t have-”  I interrupted him.

“Tom, I wanted it just as much as you!  Just that way.” I tried to comfort him.  “You were perfect.”   I tried a different tack.  ”Christ, don’t apologize for fantastic sex!“  He shook his head and took my hand, kissing my fingers.

"It’s not the sex I’m apologizing for, beautiful girl, it was the manner…”  I made a face.  I didn’t see what he was getting at. Yes, he had been a good bit rougher than usual, but god, it had been terrific. We had both been shaken up, and we both needed that rawness.

“I shouldn’t have taken you from behind that way, not after what happened tonight.”  He hung his head and swallowed hard.  "God, I’ll never forget the look in your eyes…“

Well, I suppose I had looked at him with fear in the confused scramble of my emotions.  Tom’s roughness, even though I loved it, the naked violence of it had unearthed flashes of Michael forcing me, James accusing me of things I hadn’t done, beating me… I nodded, catching on.  I hadn’t really been aware that my head was making those unconscious connections until now.  I tucked my face into Tom’s chest.

"God, how do you know what’s going on inside my head when I don’t?!”  I muttered.  I felt Tom’s chest under my ear rumble in a chuckle.

“I should probably tell you that it’s my Superpower.” he smirked.  I snorted a laugh and poked his shoulder.

“No, seriously!”  The grin slid off his face and he kissed my forehead.

"Oh love, don’t you know that you rivet my attention?” he murmured against my skin.  "I blundered into an unexpected land mine.“  He gently touched the spot he had just kissed.  "It was my responsibility to find a way to help you defuse it before it blew us both up.”

I grimaced at the mental image of my head exploding and splattering innocent bystanders with my gore. Ew.

“I’m sorry that I had to be so brutal about it.”  Tom paused, looking at me.  "You needed to make those connections consciously so that you could fight them…  And you needed to know, deep down, that you could use your safe word when you are overwhelmingly frightened or furious, and that I would absolutely respect it.  I needed to know that you would, as well.”  Tom squeezed me in an all encompassing hug, speaking quietly into my hair.

“You had a legitimate reason to use your safe word darling, and you did.  I’m so proud of you.”

Something warm bloomed in my chest, rich and flowing through my body.  The taste of his approval was sweeter than anything else in my life.  I sat quietly in his embrace letting it soak into me, putting the last shreds of my turmoil to rest. When I finally sat up I was able to voice the question that was burning in my curiosity.

“So… how much of tonight’s events did you plan out?”  I waited curiously for his answer as a muscle jumped in his jaw.

“Not as much as I should have, honestly.” He stroked my arm, soothing himself more than me.  "Everything was…organic, shall we say, until after you came.  When you looked at me…“  Tom looked almost ashamed.  

"Ellie, I was lost in my own post adrenaline reaction until that moment.  The fear in your eyes shocked me out of it, made me realise that I had let my fear for you turn into anger at you. I needed a moment to get myself under control, and to think out how to help you get past the trauma, as well.”

I began to understand. “But, why did you thank me?”  

Tom’s smile went a little grim.

“For safe-ing out, love.  For standing up for yourself when you were overwhelmed.  Because your safe word is not just for too much physical pain, it’s for too much emotional pain.”  He sighed.  "And for not making me keep beating on you.  A little erotic pain to spice things up is one thing darling, but I don’t get off on hurting you for real.  I was a little afraid that you’d try to stubborn it out…"

“But you hit me!  Really hard!” I objected.

“Did I hit you? Or did I spank you?”  Tom looked at me expectantly.  I sighed.  He’s right.  

“It was still really hard.” I grumbled.  In fact I could still feel the stinging heat of that blow, and I knew I probably had a large red handprint on my arse.

Tom actually chuckled and his hand slid down to cover the spot on my backside that he’d walloped.  He gave it a squeeze and I yelped.  It hurt, dammit!

“I had to make you believe it, didn’t I?”

“Damn, you must be an actor or something, huh?”

I watched with relief as a little deviltry crept into his eyes. Uh-oh.

“In fact, I should check to make sure your pretty bottom is all right.” I squeaked in surprise as he flipped me over with ridiculous ease and pulled the blanket away from my arse. 

His hand smoothed over my still stinging skin as he hummed.

 

 


	40. Chapter 40

Tom had had a fairly long (for him) stint being London based. Lately however, he had been in and out of the country a good bit with promoting a film he had finished last year. It continually amazes me how he can switch up gears that way, almost as if he lives in different years simultaneously.

If I were expected to speak informatively and amusingly about a kitchen that I’d finished last year, I don’t know that I could.  Yet promotion is part of his job, and he carries it out with such apparent ease and good humour.  I know I’d be cranky as hell if I had to fly into 6 countries in 5 days, to spend my time  answering inane questions from interchangeable interviewers!

We finished a kitchen tear-out yesterday, and George and I are waiting for the plumber and the electricians to come next week, so I have a long weekend. The minute Tom had realised that I had downtime, I lost any chance of spending it lounging around in my ratty old (comfy!) yoga pants and three times too large tee shirt, reading and munching on far too many biscuits for hours on end.  

Or so I thought.

Tom had an event last night to attend, but he nevertheless invited me to spend the night, asking me to come over after work. He has reasoned that since I won’t attend events with him, he could at least look forward to having me in his bed when he gets home. It seems a fair trade-off, I thought piously, but couldn’t help the naughty smirk…

That had actually worked out quite well for me, to have an excuse to spend time alone in his house. I’ve made a picture rail of sorts for his kitchen-to-be, an I wanted to search his house for photos of himself and his family and friends to hang on it.

I’m quite pleased with it.  The main horizontal rail is made of 1x1 golden oak that I stained to enhance the golden tones in the wood, with cleverly joined (if I do say so myself) depending 1x1  vertical rails that each terminate in a simple picture frame for his photos.

When the time comes, I intend to paint the unbroken wall across from the windows a dark red, hang the picture rail against it and aim small dedicated spot lights at each photo. It should be all angles and clean lines in keeping with the vaguely Art Deco atmosphere that I have planned for the rest of his morgue.

I’m nearly ready to start work on his renovation. It’s taking a long time because I decided to do all the cupboard faces by hand. Again, Art Deco, with stained red and gold semi-opaque glass inset.  I’m still deciding whether to arrange lighting inside the cabinets to light up the glass.

Now all I have to do is tell him that I’m planning to do the work while he’s away filming his next project (and out from under foot)… I expect he won’t be happy with me about that, but I really can’t have him hanging over my shoulder, watching everything I do.  That would drive me straight ‘round the twist!

Tom sat lounging back on one end of his sofa, long legs extended, a new script in one hand, and pencil in the other. We had spent a good part of the afternoon here, I with my book, curled into the corner of the sofa, and yes, in my ratty old yoga pants and tee!  Tom was reading his script and scribbling notes in the margins. It was a cozy, lazy afternoon of endless cups of tea and random bites of biscuits, as the fire crackled in the hearth, our companionable silence interrupted by occasional trips to the morgue or the loo.

I returned from one such trip, a fresh packet of biscuits in my hand, and my nose buried in my book as I stepped over his legs, on the way back to my spot on the sofa.  
Tom reached up and captured my wrist as I passed. Startled, I stopped and looked down at him in enquiry. He took the biscuit packet from my hand and set them precariously on the table top next to him.

As usual, when he’s studying a script, he’s got a whole mountain of things piled next to him, ready to hand as necessary, a cooling cup of tea, several reference books, his iPad, multiple highlighter pens and pencils, random bits and bobs. I thought the pencil stuck and forgotten behind his ear was particularly fetching. Or at least endearing.

He took my book from me and laid that, along with his script and pencil on top of it all. Tugging my wrist, he pulled me down onto his lap and nuzzled my neck. I giggled and squirmed until he bit at my neck, growling in mock threat. Lifting my chin, he kissed me lazily, his mouth tasting of Earl Grey tea and chocolate biscuits. Hmm, that’s nice, I thought as his palm curved over my breast and trailed down my body. He lifted his head and looked down at me with a smile.

“I have something for you, Ellie.”

I laughed and wriggled on his lap.

“I’ll bet you do.” I teased. He chuckled.

“You’ll get that later, miss.” Reaching behind me to his supply depot on the table, he unearthed a large-ish box from the bottom of the pile and set it in my lap.

“Happy birthday, Ellie.”

I sat stunned, staring down at the dark blue, unadorned gift box on my thighs. Not jewelry, thank all the little gods.

His hand in my hair, he tilted me back and kissed me, his mouth going from teasing and tantalizing to firm and possessing, and back again. Lifting his head to look warmly into my eyes for a quiet moment, he dove back to my lips again and again. My hands found their way to his hair and his cheek, my nails rasping over the stubble there.

He sat back with a smile.

“Now,” he commanded,  "open your present.“

With a grin I arched up and reached under my bottom to squeeze his length behind his jeans. He groaned.

"Naughty girl. Open the box. You’ll get your birthday spanking later.” he said darkly.

I pursed my lips and reluctantly removed my hand as he pushed me upright.

“How did you know?” I asked, running fingertips over the 12 x 18 rectangular lid. I’d never mentioned it being my birthday. In fact, I’d only remembered in the vaguest way.  The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he attempted to look sly.

“Just open it.” he urged.

I lifted the top half off to reveal white tissue paper, and pulled it apart. I gasped at the colors, aqua and pale blue ombré, little pink cherry blossoms trailing up. Gorgeous silk lounging pj’s.

“Oh…” I lifted the soft fabric out of the box, stunned at how beautiful they were. Beneath were a simple white vest of finely knitted silk, and under that a long slate blue cardigan, also of fine knit silk.

“Tom…they’re beautiful.” My fingers caressed the lovely fabrics, so soft and delicate.

Tom never fails to confound me. Where I might have expected sexy lingerie, he had given me a beautiful set of pyjamas in which to lounge around home. Comfy, warm, beautiful.  Exquisite.  Astounding. Ok.  Who cries over pyjamas? I firmly sniffed back tears.

Tom nudged me off his lap.

“Now go get changed, Ellie.” He handed me the box. “I really must get back to work.” he said sternly, as if I had been the one to interrupt his work to begin with.

“Oh fine! You are no fun at all!” I turned to flounce away, only to hear his murmured contradictory reply.

“Yes I am.” I looked back to find him with his script once again in his hand, and a smug little smile turning his lips up as he scanned the script, not looking up.  I snorted indelicately, turned back toward him and dipped down for a quick kiss.

“Yes. You are.” I admitted. “Thank you.”

I took my box upstairs to his room, setting it on the bed and lifting the contents out, my fingers straying over the luxurious fabric of the bottoms, a sensuous delight to the touch.

I threw my yoga pants and T-shirt off, tossing them on the floor, impatient to have these beautiful things next to my skin. Drawing the bottoms on, they glided sensuously over me, soft, warm, and light, caressing my legs, bottom and hips.

The white silk, knit vest was perfect, hugging my body warmly, and tight enough to provide a bit of support for my boobs. Or at least contain them snuggly.  I expect that Tom will be happy with the conforming fit, I thought as I ran my hands down my torso. I turned to the cheval mirror standing in the corner to check it out, sucking in my belly, only to find that there was less to suck in than I had expected.  When had that happened?

The cardigan was exquisitely soft, like being wrapped in a warm embrace… I adored the ruffled shawl collar that let me snuggle my neck down in it to ward off chill.  The slate blue was a perfect colour to set off the bottoms.

I stood there, I don’t know how long, stroking my fingers over this incredible gift, everything so perfect about it. It had been ages since anyone had given me a birthday present, and I wasn’t quite sure how to react to that.  Certainly I had never been given something that suited me so well, right down to the ground. Not since the bicycle I had been given at the age of eight.

Tom had troubled to find out my birthday.  That he had taken such thought to figure out the perfect gift…gifts… That is a gift in itself.

This, this is far more personal, more perceptive, and more sexy than any lingerie. Not that I would have minded lingerie.  Though I would have been aware that lingerie was as much a gift for himself, as it was for me. But this… Tom knew me well enough to feed my need for rich textures, warm comfort, and enticing ocean colors. Things that I would never have considered buying for myself… I didn’t quite know how to process that.

I made my way back to the lounge in my new finery. Tom looked up when I returned, his glance appreciative and approving.

“Lovely, darling.”

I picked up my book, and instead of curling back up in my corner, I laid my head on his thigh, rubbing my cheek there in thankful happiness. Tom’s free hand stroked over my curls, and played absently with them as he continued to study his script.  We sat companionably reading for another hour or so before Tom set his script aside.

“Stand up, Ellie.”

I looked up, blinking. What?

Tom pointed to a spot on the floor between his knees, his eyes holding mine. How the fuck does he do that? It took my brain several. seconds to process his demand. My book slipped from my fingers and landed with a small thud on the carpet. Oh, right.

Tom’s eyes never leaving mine, drawing me to him. I pushed myself up and moved to stand between his knees. Tom’s large hands rested on his jeans-clad thighs, his back resting against the sofa comfortably as he looked me over. I could nearly feel the path his eyes traced over my body, leaving shivers in their wake. Oh, yes…

“Turn for me.“

Tom’s fingers made a small spinning motion, and without conscious decision, my body moved to his order. The silk caressed my skin as I pivoted on the balls of my feet to present my back view to him.

A long minute slid by. Then I felt his hand stroke down my hip, down my thigh…the warmth of his hand bled clearly through the soft, satin-slick silk of my pj’s.  His hand rubbed back and forth over my arse cheek. I bit my lip as he spoke in a low tone.

"I love how this fabric glides over your skin…” he mused. His hand continued to slide and caress over my hip and thigh hypnotically.

“Turn.”

His hand abruptly lifted from my bottom. I went up on my toes and pivoted around to face him. Oh. He looked up at me with dark, hooded eyes, his cheekbones and jaw stark and taut in the firelight, stern and determined. Something under my heart fluttered at that look.

“Clasp your hands behind your back, Ellie.”

I swallowed. And did as I was told. Because, holy hell. I stood in front of him, biting my lip and holding my hands behind my back.  I watched as Tom’s hands went to the hem of my top and slid under it, to the sensitive skin of my belly. The pads of his fingertips were so warm, little sparks ignited under my skin.

Tom’s eyes were trained on my body, pushing my top up slowly, approving of every bit of skin he revealed. His palms slid along the underside of each breast, lifting them, sliding up over my nipples to my chest, my top riding up on his wrists.

Settling my top there to leave my breasts naked for him, he sat back again to admire his handiwork. I swear, the longer he looked, the harder and tighter my nipples became. So tight they began to ache. Chills began to run over my skin.

Leaning forward put his mouth at exactly the right level.  His hands lifted my breasts and he began kissing over them, small sweet, nuzzling kisses interspersed with little licks.  I struggled to keep hold of my hands behind my back, desperate to bury my hands in his hair and force him to stop teasing, more…

Just as I thought I’d go out of my mind, he moved to lapping over my nipples with the flat of his tongue over and over. I’ve heard him make that little hum in the back of his throat when he’s licking an ice cream cone.

He switched to suckling strongly on each of my nipples. His tongue rubbing them against the back of his teeth.  They began to sting and throb, the sensation arrowing through my body to inflame my pussy.

Sitting back a little, he looked up at me, his eyes heavy lidded.  A fingertip traced around one aching nipple.

“Look how pretty, beautiful girl.”  I looked down at my breasts, my nipples standing up and cherry red, the skin of my breasts flushed pink and abraded by his two day stubble, brushing and rubbing on my tender skin.  Oh god, I want…

“Tom…” I pled. I didn’t know, couldn’t tell, if I was more chilled, or aroused.

Tom sat up abruptly and reached for the pencil behind his ear. He held it up in front of my mouth.

“Open.”

Oh my God. My mouth dropped open, more in astonishment when I realized what he intended, than in obedience. My motivation made no difference to him. Tom gently placed the pencil between my teeth.

“Don’t drop it, Ellie.” he admonished sternly, his eyes narrow and demanding.

He had effectively gagged me without actually tying a gag around my mouth. I bit the pencil between my teeth. Tom waited a moment, watching me, his eyes darkening. He reached up and tucked a stray curl behind my ear.

“Beautiful girl.”

His hand traced from my ear, down my neck to circle each breast, his eyes sharp on my skin. I felt his gaze almost as a physical sensation.

Sliding his hands down my ribs to my waist, his fingers insinuated into the waistband of my silken pj’s, teasing to my hips and back, just under the edge of my waistband. I shivered, goose pimples radiating from his fingertips.

He gripped my hips, leaning forward and nuzzled my navel through the soft material. His fingers hooked and he drew the pj’s slowly down my hips and thighs, letting them fall to pool on my feet. His hands on my hips held me steady.

“Lift.” He instructed, nudging my foot with his, stooping to pull each foot free of the silk. While he was down there he kissed and nibbled at my knees and thighs. Tom picked the pj’s up and draped them on the sofa beside him.

He looked up at me as his fingers slid over my mound, tugging at my curls, two fingers sliding between my lips as I gasped at the touch of cool air and warm fingertips invading my interior. The pencil between my teeth wobbled, and I tightened my jaw to hold it in place. His fingers traced up and down just inside the seam of my labia.

“You are so beautiful, Ellie. You’re everything a man could want…” His words slid warmly through me, both thrilling and comforting.  His hands back at my hips, he pushed me gently.

“Step back… Again.” I moved back one step, and then another. Tom smoothly slid from the sofa to his knees in front of my body.  One hand nudged the inside of my knee.

“Spread your legs, Ellie… More.” He nudged the other knee until I stood with my feet as wide apart as he wanted, my hands clasped behind my back and his pencil between my teeth. My top rucked up over my breasts, the shoulder of my cardi half falling down, and the rest of me bare. I swallowed hard, anticipation growing in my belly.

His fingers continued to brush through my folds, up and down, all my attention riveted there, my clit beginning to throb it’s own demand for attention.

One finger moved to trace around my opening, around and around, as he watched me closely, slowly spiraling in to his first knuckle and back, sliding more easily in the moisture gathering there with his every movement.

Just as I was ready to scream with impatience and need, my thighs beginning to tremble, he ducked his head and his tongue invaded my folds, so hot and wet and delicious… His tongue swirled delicately around my clit, heat radiating from that spot, warming my belly.

The maddening movement of his finger stopped momentarily as he withdrew and added another finger, pushing all the way in, searching out that ridged spot inside.  Oh dear God. My hips began to move with the rhythm of those fingers until I was unconsciously rocking on my widespread feet. I was in real danger of losing my balance.

Then, oh then! Tom’s other hand left my hip and pressed against my arse, holding me steady as his mouth surged forward and engulfed my clit, driving his tongue over it, and two fingers became three, thrusting hard against that electrifying place inside.

The swelling, blooming sensation on the edge of ecstasy nearly knocked me off my feet, and my hands came around to clutch desperately at his shoulders.  He sucked my clit into his mouth and rubbed his tongue over and over it. And, oh god, over it.

He pushed me over the edge with mouth and fingers, and I came with a loud cry, pitching forward over his back, losing all touch with reality.  Tom quickly caught me, carefully not letting me fall. He stood and lifted me from my collapsing knees, settling on the sofa with me in his lap, as I gasped and my heart continued to hammer.

I lay limp and spent, held securely against his chest, marveling at what he’d just done to me.  My jaw aching, I spit out the pieces of the pencil I had bitten in half.

“Hmm. I’m sorry darling, a pencil may have not been the best tool for that.”  His fingers stroked my cheek.

“Let me look?” He asked courteously, not really giving me a choice as he inserted a thumb and pulled my mouth open to peer inside. He ran a finger over my back teeth, searching for chiped teeth or damage to my gums, I guess. I wondered if I ought to feel like a horse having it’s teeth inspected, but really?  I just felt cherished and cared for.

“No harm done, darling?” he asked as he stroked my cheek with his knuckles.  I shook my head, unable yet to string words together.  That was…wow. I’ve never had an orgasm standing up, hadn’t even guessed it was possible to so far forget myself.

I pressed my cheek into his chest, rubbing my face against his soft shirt, basking in the moment.

“Thank you, Tom, that was … Words fail me.”

“My articulate Ellie, unable to express herself?  Will wonders never cease?”

That should have been a snarky, sarcastic comment, but it was delivered with such gentle appreciation that I couldn’t object. And in any case had no brain cells left to formulate a response.

Tom let me drift on his lap, stroking over me, until I was ready to sit up.

“I should start dinner…”

“Not on your life, darling.  It’s your birthday.  You may come to the morgue, have a glass of wine and supervise if you like. I’m cooking.”

“Oh boy. This should be interesting.” I teased.  He snorted and shook his head.

“Don’t you know better than to offend the cook who is making your dinner, darling?”  

He pushed me up to stand, slapped my arse and took my hand, towing me into the morgue as I laughed.  Tom is the most un-offendable (is that a word?) man in existence.  I could call him a horse’s arse and he would curiously ask why I thought so.

He seated me at the island with all the aplomb of a maitre D’, then went to the fridge for a bottle of chilled white wine, presenting it over his arm, waiting for my nod of approval.  I laughed.  What the hell, I’ll play.

I solemnly inspected the label. A German Riesling.  Lovely.  I nodded.  Tom produced a glass and opened the bottle, pouring out a small measure and handing it to me.  Looks like I’m in for the full on sommelier treatment…

He waited, watching me intently as I raised the glass.  I imitated what I’d seen others do and sniffed the glass, swirling around the wine, then sipping.  The mellow, sweet wine hit my palate.  Yum. I guess that’s not very oenophile of me, I didn’t taste hints of kumkwats or earth, or tobacco, or whatever, but it tasted just fine to me.  I handed my glass back to him with a polite nod and he filled it halfway.  I ruthlessly suppressed any urge to giggle and took a sip.

“Thank you.”

Tom set his own glass down and fisted my hair, pulling my head back.

“Happy birthday, darling girl.” He kissed me deeply.  Fuck me.  With a deep breath, he stepped back and moved away to prepare dinner.  Chicken piccata, roasted baby red potatoes with rosemary, and asparagus, dear god.

I pulled in some courage and a big gulp of my wine. No time like the present. He can’t flip out on me on my birthday, right?

“Um.  I need your final approval on the kitchen plans.”

Tom turned and his eyes lit.

“You’re ready to start my renovation?  When?” he demanded eagerly.  Here we go.

“Just as soon as you leave for filming.”

I watched his face fall and turned mine away, unable to bear his disappointment. The silence stretched out until I couldn’t bear it anymore and I looked up at him to find him staring back at me. Don’t cry, don’t cry… grown up women don’t cry.  They suck it up, make the decisions that they know are right for them, pull up the big girl panties and soldier on with confidence.

They don’t throw themselves on the floor at his feet, apologising for doing the right thing for themselves.

Tom’s look was steady.  I refused to look away.

“Why?” Tom asked simply.

Oh god, is this the part where I have to justify my decision and he picks it apart and demolishes my arguments?

But this is Tom.  He held up his hand before I could find any words.

“I’m not going to argue with you, darling. I just need to understand why.  Tell me, Ellie. Please.” He reached for my hand and waited patiently for me.  I blew out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

“Because… because your kitchen is important to me.  I want to do a good job for you.  I don’t want to get distracted by you and fuck it all up. You…distract me when you’re around. ”  I twisted my fingers in a knot, knowing my anxiety was showing all over the place. I glanced up.

Tom looked…pleased?  I rapidly mentally replayed what I had said. Nope.  No help there. I thought he’d be furious, and instead he’s pleased?  What the fuck is he so pleased about?

I shrugged.  What the hell, it’s my birthday, right?  Understanding is a two way street, right?

“Just to be clear, um, you’re pleased?”  Tom nodded, a small smirk on his lips.  "Well, why?“

Tom’s smirk transformed into a small mischievous smile.

"I think I’ll let you figure that out.”

I blinked at him.  He’s playing with me?  I narrowed my eyes and took a sip of my wine.  I carefully set down the glass.

I folded my arms, leaning on the island top. I nodded at the pans behind him.

“Don’t let your sauce burn…”

Tom jumped and turned back to the stove, anxiously giving everything a look and a stir. Once he ascertained that dinner was in no danger he turned and leaned back against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other and his arms folded across his chest, his wooden spoon in one hand.  His lips twitched, but they weren’t doing that thing.  
He lifted an eyebrow, and my breath caught. Fuck me.  No, really.  And then the penny dropped and my mouth fell open.  I snapped my mouth shut.

“You’re pleased that I get distracted around you!” I spluttered.  His grin broadened.

“Got it in one, clever girl.”  He dropped his arms and strolled over to me, wrapping me in a tight embrace.  He whispered in my ear.

“I’m even more pleased that you told me…”

Forty eleven replies came to mind.  I wisely said none of them.  Instead, I fisted my hand in his shirt and pulled him down for a hard kiss.  It’s my birthday, sue me. I've got a spanking coming anyway!

Tom dropped his wooden spoon, clattering away on the floor.  He grasped my hips and lifted me onto the island, stepping up between my knees, putting us on the same level.  Then his hands were all over my body.  One hand ending in the back of my hair, and the other went behind my hips, pulling me forward to the edge of the counter top, until my body was flush with his.  Perfect height for a kiss.

“Wrap your legs around me, Ellie.” He said in a low tone. Oh yeah.  Tom insinuated his hand under my bum and tilted my hips, bringing my silk clad mound against his belly.  I sucked in my breath at the feeling of the soft, slick fabric sliding against my most sensitive skin.  Not even once did I think about making a wet spot on my pretty silk pj’s.

Oh god, I was rubbing myself against him like a cat on heat, and I didn’t bloody care.  Tom pulled my top and cardi off in one smooth move, laying me back against the chill metal of the stainless steel island top. I couldn’t stop myself from arching up, away from the shocking cold. Tom’s hands closed over my breasts, feeling doubly hot in contrast to the cold on my back.

“Beautiful girl.”

His hands moved down my torso and back up in a long soothing stroke, circling around the underside of my breasts, holding them up for his mouth.  He licked over each breast, biting down sharply on each nipple in turn, with a soothing suckle to take the sting away.

His hands still on my breasts, he leaned up and took my mouth, swiping his tongue and tangling with mine as his big hands kneaded and squeezed, his body stretched over mine and pressing me down into the island top.

“Tom…” I whimpered.

His damn watch alarm went off and he stood, pulling me up to sit.  My head spun. Fuck!  He grinned at me, not at all apologetically.  Stooping, he picked up my top and cardi, handing them to me to struggle into.

“Mustn’t let your dinner burn!”

Smart ass.

Tom served up the most beautiful meal.

"Close your eyes, please.” he demanded as he dished up. Oookay.

“Good girl.” He said softly.  My stomach swooped at that.

I heard him open the refrigerator and rummage for a moment, then the door snicking shut. I waited impatiently.  Whatever was he doing?  I heard him set a plate down in front of me and slide onto his own stool.

“God, Tom it smells so good, my mouth is actually watering! Can I open my eyes, yet?”

“Yes, you may open your eyes now, darling.”

My eyes blinked open and I stared down at my plate. My eyes teared up for some silly reason.

“Tom… it’s beautiful.”

My plate of veal piccata, roasted rosemary potatoes, and asparagus had been scattered round with fresh violets. Fresh violets!  I reached out a finger to gently touch one. And looked up into his soft blue eyes. Tom smiled sweetly and reached up to brush away my tears.

“Happy birthday, love.  Tuck in.”  I took a deep breath, staring at my plate. Tom picked up a violet, holding it to my lips. Opening my mouth, I nipped the violet gently from his fingers and tasted it. The faintest taste of violets bloomed over my tongue, so faint that it was more like a scent in my mouth, subtle and very fine.

I suddenly felt very shy with him. I never knew that love tastes like violets…

I cleared my throat and took a sip of wine.

“Thank you Tom. This is beautiful.” I picked up my fork and we both began to eat. So good.  I mused aloud.

“I wonder why we celebrate birthdays. It must be a fairly modern custom, anyway. I mean, given that peasants didn’t really have access to calendars until a couple of hundred years ago…”

And Tom was off. The things he keeps in his head, ready to trot out at random are simply amazing.

I sat and indulged in two of my favorite things, eating Tom’s marvelous cooking and listening to his voice as he related odd bits of trivia and history, the odder the better. I learned that the Egyptians were the first to celebrate birthdays, which were actually coronation days (rebirth) of their kings/gods, and that the Greeks were the first to put candles on cakes in tribute to Artemis, goddess of the hunt, but it wasn’t until the late 18th century that the Germans started what was then known as kinderfeste with cake and candles, that celebrating birthdays became a thing. Then Tom asked why I didn’t usually celebrate my birthday.

“Mum always used to do that. She made a big production, taking me out to tea someplace fine, presents and cake… She always talked to me like an adult, like a girl friend, on those occasions.”  I sniffled in remembrance.  "After she died… there just didn’t seem like much point. It’s not that I won’t celebrate my birthday,  so much as it is that I just don’t actually bother.  And nobody has ever… I’ve never had anybody to push the point with me…“

"Well, you do now.” Tom said firmly. “Birthdays aren’t just for celebrating the survival of another year, they’re for enumerating and celebrating the last year’s successes and triumphs!  And you’ve had so many of those this year… Ellie, the things you came through, survived with strength and grace, you should take pride in your successes. I do.”

I felt the heat of a blush scald my cheeks.

“Now.”  He took my serviette from me and set it beside my plate. Standing, he lifted me from my high seat and set me on my feet.

“Pudding in the bedroom, Ellie.  Now.“  He spun me about and delivered a swat to my arse.

"That’s one…”  

I yelped and leapt forward, the silk over my bum hadn’t dulled the sting of his swat at all. My hands clutched my backside as I spun around and scowled at him.

“Better move, darling. You’ve got 26 more coming!” He grinned at me.

Oh holy hell. I turned and ran, but Mr. LongLegs was right behind me, delivering a stinging swat to my bum about every three steps, and counting aloud.

“Two! Three! Four!” I shrieked after each one.

I scrambled up the stairs, laughing and yelping every time his hand landed on my arse. Halfway up I stopped and turned. Ok, I had to say this…

“Wait!” I threw my hands up in surrender. Tom came to a halt three steps below. He looked up at me in question. I gulped a breath.

“I…”  he waited. Tears pricked my eyes.  I put my hands on his chest and willed him to understand my earnestness.

“Right this minute… I’m happy, Tom.  You did that.”

Tom’s lips parted and his eyes softened.  Damn if he didn’t tear up himself, and then a big smile bloomed over his face.  Oh, this man…

I set my hands on his cheeks and kissed him, brushing my lips over his before his hand went to the nape of my neck, pulling me firmly against his lips. Tom’s tongue swept into my mouth and took the lead from me, one hand holding my head steady, holding me securely from the step two below me, his face just slightly turned up to mine.  Ending the kiss, he looked at me, his thumb brushing over my eyebrow.

“Bedroom.  Now, Ellie.” he husked at me, and turned me, urging me up the stairs to his room.

“Now you can take all that unnecessary clothing off for me.” He hitched the legs of his trousers as he sat on the edge of the bed, leaving me standing on the carpet. “And you can do it slowly.”

I swallowed hard. I have no experience doing a sexy striptease, but damn, if that’s what he wanted, I would channel my best ecdysiast.

Tom smoothed down the leg of his trousers, his eyes riveted on me, waiting patiently, and it finally occurred to me that I could do any damn thing at all, and as long as I was looking back at him and naked at the end, he’d be happy. That was all the revelation I needed to lose my sudden neurotic need to be the world’s sexiest stripper, and just focus on Tom.

“May I have your mobile?” I asked, putting out my hand for it. Tom’s eyebrows went up, but he dug into his front pocket for it and handed it over. I know he’s got the perfect music for this, he always has the perfect music, but I don’t think I have it on mine… I flipped through his playlists. There! And he even has the extended play version!  
‘Unchained Melody’ by the Righteous Brothers.

I set his mobile in the bedside dock and turned the volume up. As the music started I swayed, and shimmied my shoulders slightly to let the sleeves of my cardi slide down over my hands. Bubbles of nervousness and want popped and fizzled low in my belly.

“..whoa my love,  
my darlin’,  
I’ve hungered for your touch…”

I lifted a finger to my mouth, biting down on the nail, deliberately evoking a little girl thing, watching his bare feet flex on the carpet for several beats.  I could tell by the restless movement of his feet that he was holding himself there by main force of will.  Music is playing and naturally Tom wants to dance. I slowly brought my eyes up his legs and held my other hand out to him and waited, swiveling my hips a bit more.

“…and time goes by  
so slowly,  
And time can do so much…  
Are you still mine?”

When he reached to take hold of my sleeve covered hand, I slid my arm delicately from the sleeve, turned and let the other sleeve fall down from my shoulder and over my arm as I undulated to the music. Still not looking directly at his face, I heard his breath gust out of his lungs.

“Lonely rivers sigh,  
Wait for me, wait for me,  
I’ll be coming home, wait for me…”

I turned my back to him, crossed my arms over my torso to grasp the hem of my top at opposite hips and slowly drew the top up my body and over my head, letting it dangle for a moment from a fingertip before dropping it on the carpet.

Swaying with my bare back to him, I reached up and pulled the hair tie from my messy bun, letting my head fall back and running my hands up into my hair to shake it loose and wild.

“I’ve hungered,  
HUNGERED,  
for your touch,  
a long  
lonely time…”

I looked over my shoulder at him and nearly gasped myself at the sight of him. He had undone all his shirt buttons and sat there spellbound as I lazily rocked my hips, shirt hanging open down his chest, and he might have broken that zipper…

I danced backward to him, swaying between his knees.

“Little help?“ I asked quietly, my voice going all husky at the sight of him over my shoulder.

Tom reached for my hips, toying with the edge of my waistband, running his hands over my silk clad backside and back, before hooking his fingers into the fabric and slowly sliding it down my legs.

He stood and pressed his body to my back, his lips coming down on the crook of my neck as he swayed us to the music. I reached an arm up and back to hook a hand behind the nape of his neck.  Catching sight of us in his cheval mirror, Tom’s big hand cupping one of my breasts, naked me pressed back against still clothed Tom.  We looked…sexy. Right together.

I could feel his erection prodding at the base of my spine before he reached up for the hand behind his neck and pulled it away. He swirled me out in a gentle spin and drew me back, enfolding me in his arms as he danced and drifted us around the room.

When the song came to an end he had me facing end of the bed.  He dipped me into a kiss and brought me up, then pressed me down over the bed, moving my hair aside, his lips on the back of my neck.

"Crawl up, darling…” he nudged me onto the bed.  Oh, god.

I crawled up and looked over my shoulder at the clink of his belt buckle, to see him shrugging off his shirt and stripping his trousers off.

For just one split second I wanted to scramble away at the predatory look in his eyes, before sanity reasserted itself.  When Tom looks like that, there is no other place I’d rather be…

He crawled onto the bed behind me as I knelt on hands and knees, kissing his way up my thighs to my backside with a playful nip.  I jolted and laughed.

Tom knelt up between my knees, running his hands over my back and down my arse and legs in the most teasing, tantalising manner.  God, I love it when he touches me simply because he wants my skin…

One hand dipped between my legs, tracing over my lips.

“Ellie… you’re so soft and beautiful…” I groaned at his words.

“Please Tom, don’t stop…”

“Never, beautiful girl…”

His fingers parted me, slipped down to my entrance, circled around and around.  Please…

‘So wet for me, my darling birthday girl…“

Oh god.

Tom’s hand slid up my back to the nape of my neck and guided my head down to the duvet, leaving my arse high in the air.  One hand stayed buried in my hair, holding my head to the bed, the other began sliding two fingers into me.  Oh dear god.

His fingers scissored into me, opening me until I was desperate to thrust back onto his fingers, but his hand in my hair still refused to let me move.

Finally he withdrew those tormenting fingers and I felt his hand move to guide his cock head between my folds, dipping down and wetting it to swirl around my clit.  I hissed at the blunt prodding, the slick slide and drag against sensitive skin.

Gradually he slid into me, until he was buried to the hilt, and then further. Tom leaned over my body, using his weight to gently push me flat, until he covered my whole body.  His hands covered mine, twining his fingers in mine on either side of my head, leveraging his torso up enough to let me breathe.  After a fashion.

His hips pushed into me, rocking my pelvis in a voluptuous rhythm. Tom lifted one of my knees and pushed it up the bed, opening me wider, enabling him to push deeper into me.  I groaned with his every thrust and grind.

I felt his strong thighs pushing against mine, his chest covering my back and moving over me in a full body sensual assault.  Tom hooked his ankles over mine, raising one knee to match mine, utterly pinning me to the bed.

"You’re a frightening, amazing woman, Ellie…Fuck, you make me delirious…” he murmured in time with his leisurely thrusts.  "You’re good for me… You make me happy…you’re home…“

There was something intoxicating in his languid pace as he rocked us on and on.  My pelvis was trapped open against the bed with my clit slowly brushing back and forth on the sheets.  God, I could feel myself tighten around him.  I was going to come…

"Take it, darling. ”  Tom murmured in my ear.  "I want to feel you come around me…“

Tom rolled to the side just enough to let him reach under me and set a damp fingertip over my clit as he continued to rock into me. That was it, god yes, and my climax rolled me under, building and building until I couldn’t contain it anymore.  Tom’s weight held me immobile, I couldn’t move at all, I just had to be still and experience it as it went on and on…

When at last I went limp, Tom lifted up and courteously let me breathe.  I let out a wheezing laugh.  Until now, I hadn’t known that one could be squashed flat in a good way!  
Before I was quite ready to move, Tom pulled out and rolled us both, lying on his back, positioning me on top and sliding back into me in one graceful move.  I think this is his favourite position, with my tits dangling over his face as he grasps my hips and moves me on his cock.

He lifted his head and licked a breast as he thrust up into me hard, over and over, pushing into that spot that drives me wild.  He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me down into a desperate kiss.  Fuck!

Slipping a hand between us, he found my clit, pushing me higher and higher, finally pushing me over the top.  I spasmed and thrashed on top of him before dropping limply onto his body.

Toms arms wrapped around me, thrusting up almost bruisingly as he chased his own finish. Clutching my body tightly to his, he let loose with a groan as his heat pulsed into me.  I felt utterly wrung and collapsed onto him with my own groaning laugh.  

After a moment to gather myself I smiled sleepily at him.

"You forgot my spanking.”  I teased.  He huffed a laugh and arched a brow.

“There’s always tomorrow, darling. And the next day. And the day after that...”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to catwinchester for her help!  This chapter is almost SFW!

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Tom stand, his long fingers moving rapidly, doing up the buttons of his crisp white shirt, and tucking the tails into his dark blue trousers, sliding his hands into the back of his waistband and around his hips to settle the shirt smoothly so there were no unsightly bunches or wrinkles. He zipped and buttoned his trousers, his hands showing the same graceful economy of movement as he buckled the slim black belt around his hips. He always looks so damn elegant and put together, and it takes him about 2 seconds to achieve it.

I sighed as I looked into the bathroom mirror that morning, getting ready for work, which mostly consisted of brushing my teeth and yanking my hair up into a messy bun to get it out of my way…and keep it out of paint, stain, glaze, woodchips, drywall dust… I might have snorted at the end of that sigh.

“Now what was all that about, beautiful girl?”

Tom suddenly appeared from behind and wrapped around me, looking into the mirror over my shoulder at the both of us, leaning his chin on the point of my shoulder. The light stubble on his chin scratched at my skin.  That eyebrow was cocked quizzically high.  I laughed at the reflection of us in the mirror. I don’t know what he sees in me, I’m just a ‘little bat-faced girl’.  But he seems to like me for some reason.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that was quite so loud!” I muttered.

A small smile of amusement ghosted across his mouth before his eyes narrowed.

“And..?” His voice was all stern, take-no-nonsense Dom. Hell.  I tried hard not to roll my eyes. Judging by his expression, I’m not sure I succeeded too well. I gestured at my mirror image.

“I’m not much of a ‘girly’ girl, I’m afraid.”  

I pulled at the neck of my vest. I wore my habitual work clothes; worn blue jeans, a tank top, and an old blue plaid flannel shirt left open or tied at the waist, depending on what I was working on. Unless I was working with electric saws. Then the flannel shirt came off.  I don’t fucking fool around with clothing getting caught in a saw. I like my tits right where they are.

Tom was staring back at me in the mirror, lips parted, looking utterly bewildered.  What?

“Ellie, how can you say that?  You are so very…female!”

My mouth fell open.

“Oh, come on,” I gestured at my reflection, “it’s not precisely a Dressed for Success Power Suit, or Red Carpet Ready, is it?”  I shook my head. “I’m still dressing like a boy…”  
Tom laughed.

“You think that you’re not 'girly’ because you wear appropriate clothing to work??  Darling, what do you think I do every day when I go to work?” he asked incredulously.

I tossed my toothbrush into its holder rather harder than I intended and it made a loud clatter. I winced.

“Well,” I muttered, “you’re not a girl! And my job’s not exactly glamorous, either.”

“Ellie.” His eyes glinted amusement at me. He turned me in his arms, pulling me in tight at the waist, caging me against the vanity with his hips and leaning his upper half back to see all of me.

“You asked.” I grumbled, “No fair laughing at my answers…”

“Yes, all right. I’m sorry.”  He sounded contrite, but his eyes looked concerned when he kissed me.

“Sorry.” I offered, “This is me before I’ve had coffee…” As if he wasn’t already well aquatinted by now with my surly morning persona.

I slipped my arms around him, laid my head on his chest and hugged him.

“Thank you.” I mumbled.

“Darling, you are very welcome… whatever that was for!”  He squeezed me into one of his side-to-side rocking, Hiddleston hugs and dropped a kiss on my forehead. “Come on. I’ll make coffee, you get the toast.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” I said.  "I’m going to the shops this afternoon.  We’re nearly out of milk and tea.  Is there anything you want me to pick up?“

Later that day I had a text from him.

"Dinner tonight, darling girl.  Reservations at 'Versailles’ for this evening. Pick you up at 7.30. Wear something girly ;) ”

I gasped and checked the time. Just gone 4 PM. Shit! I looked frantically around, taking a quick inventory of the work still to be done. Fortunately, none of it was urgent in any way. I rapidly packed up and took off home, my pulse running fast and excited. I adore Versailles. The food is marvelous- veddy, veddy French- but best of all, it’s decor is very 'Versailles’. Seriously, ridiculously overblown; gilt cherubs dancing on the ceiling, gold fleur de lis over dark blue walls, crystal dripping chandeliers, the works. It just delights me! Makes me want to squeal like a girl…

Okay, I know I’m weird getting all excited about architecture and hand carved wood work, and gilded naked babies.  But it’s just all so wonderful and fantastical!  Not to mention actual correct historical detail from the right time period! It fucking thrills me so much that they put so much attention into the details. I feel almost as if I’d been magically transported to Narnia, or Rivendell, not quite real, sitting in an ornate Louis XIV chair, eating delightful food at a crystal laden table… For me, that place was like Disneyland. If Marie Antoinette were a Disney Princess…

I frantically mentally reviewed the contents of my closet for a suitable dress as I rode home on the tube, wondering if I had time to shop for something appropriate. But no. Tom had only left me three hours to get ready, damn the man! I nearly wriggled in excitement, I’d kill him for it, but not before he took me to Versailles!

I rushed home, dropping everything in the foyer, and straight into my closet. I don’t own a lot of dresses, but then I hardly ever have need of one. I pushed a couple of sundresses by on their hangers, and disregarded the ice blue satin dress. I will always think of that as James’ dress. I’ll never wear it again. I don’t know why it’s still here…

Damn. I didn’t want thoughts of that fucker invading my headspace tonight! I made an impulsive decision, snatched the thing off the hanger bar and marched through to the closet near the front door, yanking it open and hanging the dress in there. I’ll donate it, but the only way I’ll remember is if it’s near the door. I scribbled a quick sticky note about the donation and slapped it on the closet door. Some other fat girl ought to get some use out of it. Hopefully she’ll make better memories in it. There! I felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing that I had taken a definite step toward offloading that particular bit of baggage.

I went back to my bedroom closet having unconsciously made my choice for tonight. The dark blue velvet. It was a bit formfitting, but I had the proper foundation garments for it. Or well, I have a very nice black silk basque. The velvet has a bit of stretch to it and clings pretty tightly to my arse…  Shit, panty lines!  I ran through my lingerie drawer. Nope.  Okay…no knickers tonight.

It will be fine, I told myself. That dress clings to my hips and thighs, ending just above the knee, there’s no possible way the wind would flip that skirt up.

Now I just needed accessories. Mum’s dangling pearl earrings. I went to my jewelry box and found the delicate little things, stroking a fingertip over one smooth teardrop shape, swallowing the tiny sip of remembrance that came every time I touched them.

The dress was off the shoulders, but there’s a beautiful detail of white silk rose buds at the low neckline, so I wouldn’t need a necklace. Thigh-high smoke grey stockings to clip into the suspender straps on the basque, and my black, sling back heels. I laid it all out on my bed and dove for the shower.

Making my hair look like normal hair rather than a floofy mop is the thing that takes the most time. At least an hour with blow drying, straightening and pinning up. It took me longer because I kept taking it down and putting it up again. At last I managed a French Roll that looked passably neat.  

Makeup… I went with eyeliner – another time consuming, trial and error situation because I have so little practice. And then smoky eyes and actual lipstick instead of my usual lip balm. The color was a perfect cerise that went beautifully with the aubergine undertones of the dark blue dress.

Downing tools, I examined myself in the mirror. I looked like me, but not. Somehow I have managed to almost pull off elegant.

I dashed into the kitchen, in my blue silk robe, for a glass of wine to calm my nerves. I had almost reached for the scotch, but after my last un-tonguetied experience with it…better not. I took my wine back to the bedroom with me and put on some music. Okay, it was the soundtrack of Beauty and the Beast. What? It’s beautiful music!  And it’s appropriate dammit, I’m a Disney Princess going to Versailles!

I dressed carefully. It wouldn’t do to ladder my only pair of stockings…  At last standing in front of the cheval mirror, I surveyed myself. No bits of food in my teeth. Lipstick on straight – I must remember not to bite my lip tonight… Mum’s dangling pearl earrings with the tiny sapphire accents look smashing with the blue and white of my dress. I turned and surveyed the back, the zipper is up all the way, though I couldn’t quite manage the tiny hook at the top, right between my shoulder blades. 

I’m sure Tom would be willing to help with that… I smirked.  There’s something so romantic, so sexy, about a man helping a woman to hook that last, hard to reach hook at her back, or helping her close the clasp of a necklace at the nape of her neck. I shivered.

I ran a hand over my backside. The dress does cling, though I was surprised that it wasn’t quite as tight as the last time I wore it to a friend’s wedding rehearsal dinner. No panty lines, and bonus (!) with no knickers I won’t have any fear of returning from the loo with the back of my skirt caught in them! I grinned and rolled my eyes at myself in the mirror, picked up my clutch and my sheer navy silk wrap and brought them into the lounge to await my… date. God.

I gulped. In all my childish giddy excitement over going to Versailles, I had barely given any thought to Tom. We’d been out to meals together many times before, of course, but much more casually. Tonight… I swallowed down the last of my wine, attempting to drown all the fluttering butterflies in my stomach. It’s not a damn Red Carpet!  I thought longingly of another glass of Riesling and checked the time. 15 minutes. I’ll drive myself mad in that time…

I kicked off my 4 inch heels– because why wear the torture devices any longer than necessary – and padded into the kitchen on stocking feet. I carefully poured out half a glass of wine and sipped at it slowly, in a completely mature fashion.  Yeah ok, I threw it back and reached for the bottle again.

When the bell went, I startled and nearly dropped my wine glass, fortunately managing not to slosh it all over myself. Setting my glass down on the counter, I took a deep breath. I slipped back into my heels and went to let Tom in, dutifully first looking through the peep to check it was him before unlocking the three (!) locks he’d insisted on installing on my front door.

I swung the door open and stood gaping at him. He was stunning in his gorgeous silver silk suit, with a dark blue tie nearly the same shade as my dress. I swear, looking at him in that suit made me weak in the knees. And his hair, the curls brushed back and only slightly tamed with a bit of gel. I realized my breath had caught and I let it out in an audible whoosh. Then his scent hit me as he stepped forward and set down a carrier bag in his hand that I’d not noticed, and kissed my cheeks before taking me in his arms. 

He fucking smouldered at me.

“Don’t ever say that you are not 'girly’, darling! You look exquisite, and so very, edibly, feminine! Although, 'girly’ is a wholly inadequate term for… this.”  He traced a finger over the edge of my neckline. I felt my cheeks heat, and goose pimples shiver down my spine.

“You look kinda yummy yourself, Thomas.”  I brushed imaginary lint from his lapel, looking up with a smile into his handsome face. Oh, he had shaved, entirely clean cheeks and chin!  I couldn’t resist leaning up on my toes and brushing my cheek against his smooth skin. Mmm.

“What’s this?” I asked, glancing down at the bag at our feet.

“Tea and milk. I know I didn’t leave you time for the shops today.”

Damn.  A man who remembers my shopping for me… I hurried off to stuff the milk into my refrigerator and returned. Tom turned his head and laid another kiss on my cheek.  He checked his watch.

“Shall we go?” he invited. “Do you have a wrap?”

“Yes and yes!”  

I think my cheeks will hurt by the end of the night simply from smiling.  I turned my back to him, looking over my shoulder.

“Um, would you mind? I couldn’t quite reach the hook…”  I felt the warmth of his breath gust over the back of my neck as he stepped close, and the brush of his fingers along my shoulder blades.

“Certainly, darling.” He slipped the hook into place and trailed his hand down my back before placing a kiss on the bare nape of my neck. I shivered again. Yep, definitely sexy.

“Thank you.” I murmured.

Tom picked up my wrap and laid it gently around my shoulders. I saw the corner of his mouth doing that thing as he looked down at me, then he stepped back.

My heart sank. Had I done something to displease him, somehow? I would normally pretend that I hadn’t noticed, but… I reached out and clutched his sleeve.

“What? What’s wrong, Tom?” I tried not to sound anxious, merely curious. Tom smiled and put his hand on my cheek.

“It’s nothing darling. I wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn’t do to muss your lovely lipstick.”

"Oh, well…” I reached into my clutch for a tissue and wiped my mouth. “The thing about lipstick is, it can be re-applied.” I said with a smile.  "I’d far rather have the kiss… Please?“

Tom’s beautiful, white smile broke over his face and he tilted my face up to take my mouth in a long, deep kiss that I felt all the way down to my toes. I was almost relieved when he broke the kiss with a restrained breath, reminded that I was not wearing knickers. I don’t want to be leaving wet spots on the seats!  He took my elbow and steered me out the door, pulling it shut behind us.

I stood still, staring at the kerb from the top of my front steps. A limo. Oh hell, he’d brought a damn limo. And a driver.

"All right, love?” He took my elbow again and walked us to the limo where the driver waited with the door open. Apparently I AM Cinderella, off to the ball…

Tom sat relaxed in the limo, his knees sprawled apart, his hand holding mine, thumb caressing my knuckles as I tried to match his relaxation. 'Til he started to talk.

“Ellie love, I very much want to watch you at work. I’m desperate to see you transforming the morgue into my kitchen…”  

I stiffened as I listened to him.  

“I understand that you are anxious about being distracted while you work.  Believe me, I do understand your concern.  But can’t we come to a compromise?”  I looked at him warily.  Another compromise?

He looked up at the ceiling, his lips screwed up in thought.

“I’ve been thinking of a web cam.”  He looked back at me, excitement growing on his face.  "We could, you know, put one up over the doorway in the morgue…“ he sketched the archway through to the lounge. "You’d never even know.  I think you’d soon forget it was there…”

“You’re mad.”  I screwed up my eyes, thinking of the place he’d indicated and around the room, considering.  "No sound?  You won’t be able to hear me swearing?“  I rubbed my forehead.  "Fuck, I can’t believe I’m considering this…”

“Where’s the harm, darling?” He arched a brow.  "I get what I want, you get what you need, it’s all good.“  He nodded with satisfaction.  "Yes, I think that will do very well.” he said in a firm  tone.  Decision made.  Um.

I opened my mouth to, I don’t know, protest or something, when Tom leaned forward and tugged me against him, his mouth diving onto mine, a hand on my neck, guiding my lips over his.

“My kitchen,” he murmured against my lips, “my kitchen artist, my girl…my decision.”  He pulled away and looked in my face, very probably reading my relief at not having the responsibility for the decision. Putting his forefinger under my chin, he kept my face tilted up to his, my eyes on his.

“Simple.  All that is required of you is that you do your job.” he said with a little smirking challenge in his voice.  "Do you usually argue with your clients?“ he asked, his chin tilted archly.

I snorted on a laugh and rolled my eyes.  Really??

"That’s fighting dirty, you know.” I muttered.

“Of course it is.  How do you think I win all our arguments, darling?” He grinned in smug satisfaction at me.

“They aren’t arguments!  You bloody tell me what I’m going to do, and I do it!”

Tom nodded sagely.

“Precisely!  I win.  I fail to see the problem.”  His eyes twinkled at me. I guess I’m going to be  remodeling his morgue under a camera…

Tom helped me out of the limo, his hand wrapped securely around mine, smoothly pulling me out onto the pavement. He walked slightly behind me, his hand on my lower back, guiding me with his fingertips, his hand straying just a bit lower than it ought. I threw a look at him, just over my shoulder, wondering just what he was getting up to, but his face was calm and inscrutable. His eyes flicked down to mine for the briefest instant and blazed wickedly as he pulled the door open for me. 

He knows he’s won.

I goggled around the room as we were led to our table by a Maître D’ in a black tux, with tails, even!  The place had such high ceilings and were covered with such art, such gilding, such amazing detail work. And the floors! The most gorgeous wood and rose quartz parquet floor…

I slid into the small banquette with a little wriggle, Tom going around the table to slide in on my right, taking my hand and laughing with me.

“You’re my favourite!” I grinned as I bounced in my seat happily.  "Thank you for this!“

Tom’s white smile flashed, and an eyebrow lifted.

"Favourite what, darling?”

"Everything, Tom.”  I blushed again.

I let him conduct the business of ordering drinks and he kindly allowed me to gape at our surroundings to my hearts’ content. Not that I didn’t catch him doing a little gaping himself! It is indeed a ridiculous conglomeration of the Palace of Versailles and Disneyland…

I shook myself out of my daze when Tom nudged a glass of champagne into my hand. He leaned in and murmured, mischief dancing in his eyes, "I half expect Mickey to stroll through…”

I burst out into a rather loud laugh, clapping my hand over my mouth to smother the sound, far too late.  Tom laughed loudly too, covering my embarrassment.

Tom cleared his throat and took a sip of his champagne, his long fingers running down the stem of the glass as he set it down thoughtfully. He tossed me slightly worried look.  
“You know that I’ll be in Croatia for a few weeks for preliminary costume fittings and filming.”  Tom wiped his mouth with the snowy serviette.

My heart sank, his departure suddenly looming large over our table, my gaze skittered away from his, and quickly around the restaurant. Tom has been casually bringing his away project up at random moments.  I got the feeling that it wasn’t so casual, though.

“I expect I’ll be able to fly home most weekends, it’s only a two and a half hour flight.”

And just like that, my heart lifted again.

“There may be a weekend that I won’t be able to make it to London, because of other engagements scheduled. But I hope to be home at most weekends, yes? Friday nights to Sunday afternoons…"

I sat straight, surprised and delighted. That’s not so bad. At least it’s not bloody Vietnam! Tom grinned at my changing expression.

“So, this film I’m working… It’s broadly about a carpenter in the mid-1800s who gets transported to Australia for stealing bread to feed his dying wife… That’s why all the books on Australian history are strewn all over the place,” he smiled ruefully.

I nodded.  About a week ago I’d noticed them popping up in any room he’d been in recently. Two nights ago he’d actually called me, asking if he had left one of them at mine. He had, but not the particular one he was looking for.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…will you teach me something of working with different kinds of wood?  For the film?” Tom’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. My mouth fell open, actually gobsmacked. Tom wants me to teach him woodworking??

Amusement flashed in Tom’s face. His finger pushed my jaw up.

“We are not a codfish, darling.”  

I snorted and clapped my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my giggles. Nervous giggles. I glanced around the room, but nobody appeared to notice. So mature and elegant, me.

“Tom, are you sure…” His eyes narrowed. Of course Tom will have already thought it through, he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want me to teach him.

“Um, what sort of things do you need to know?” I changed tack rapidly.

Tom explained the story, his character transported, the ship meeting a storm and badly damaged. A number of the crew, including the ship’s carpenter, are killed. His character is essentially drafted to rebuild several of the mast spars, amongst other necessary repairs, once they limp close to shore. The captain is a fair man and he writes Tom’s character a recommendation for emancipation in gratitude for his service to the Crown in repairing His Majesty’s ship and saving all aboard. Most of the story seems to revolve around the trials and tribulations of the carpenter trying to effect repairs.

Tom wanted to pick my brain about how I would go about the actual repairs in that situation, if I had to, what I would need to figure out in order to begin tackling a job, shipbuilding essentially, something that I’d never studied. His narration drew me into the dilemma, and I was intrigued. That explained the book on wooden ship building that I’d found in my kitchen!

I needed to know more about the whole business if I was going to be any help, so we agreed that I’d do some reading of my own. Tom looked delighted as we arranged a day for him to come down to my workshop so we could have a detailed look at what I do, and discuss necessary knowledge about joining and qualities of different types of wood.

A lull fell in the conversation as we both concentrated on our food.  Tom can have an entire conversation with the little hums and murmurs and sometimes outright moans he makes over his food.  Occasionally his eyebrows would go up in surprise at a flavour and he offered me a small bite on the end of his fork, sliding it delicately between my lips.

The look on his face, almost holding his breath as I tasted the tidbit, only breathing when I smiled over the flavours bursting on my tongue, is a conversation in itself.  Tom’s eyes fell half-lidded and heavy when I made a noise of enjoyment over the morsel of duck confit that he’d fed me.  He looked beautiful…aroused, as he watched me.

My eyes darted up to the gilded mirror that faced us, wondering what it is that he saw in my face.  Pink flared in my cheeks, because I had no idea what it is in my expression that arrests his attention so.  I looked down at my plate in confusion.

Tom leaned in next to my ear, his hand finding mine and squeezing.

“Beautiful girl.” The tiny gusts of his murmur brushed over my earlobe and neck.  My breath rushed out of my nose in a soundless snort of amusement.

“Silly man.”

Tom’s fingers pulled my chin around, his eyes running softly over my face.

“Believe it, darling girl.”  

And he kissed me, his mouth tasting of all the delicious things he’d been feeding me.

Tom fed me another amazing tidbit, caramelized onion and something earthy – truffle? – and rare beef. I let my eyes close as I tasted the flavors mixing and expanding on my tongue. I didn’t even try to hold back my quiet moan of enjoyment as I chewed and swallowed.  Tom leaned close to my ear.

“Keep your eyes closed now darling.”

His request caused a funny little quiver in my belly and a tiny spike of anticipation. I felt his fingers slide along my jaw and lightly grasp my chin, and the cool rim of a glass touched my bottom lip.

“Smell, darling.” he directed. My eyes flashed open and I flinched as I smelled red wine.

“No, no darling, eyes closed!  Now, again… Part your lips and draw the scent over your palate, breathe it in…” he murmured into my ear. 

Puzzled, I followed his instructions and breathed in the wine aroma. Oh… so many different scents, combined with the flavors lingering in my mouth from the bite Tom had fed me, almost making me taste new flavors…how extraordinary!

“Oh, that’s amazing!” My eyes opened to find Tom’s face mere inches from mine, his eyes blazing as he watched me experience this. I blinked at him.

“Would you like to try a taste, now?” I nodded and Tom tilted his glass, barely wetting my lip. I licked the wine from my lip and was surprised again at the melding of flavors that exploded over my tongue. Tom’s eyes were hooded as he watched my tongue re-trace back over my lip.

“More?”

Oh what the hell. It’s not like I wouldn’t do anything for him anyway, right? Tom tilted the glass once again, and I took an actual sip of the red wine.  I rolled it around in my mouth as I sat back. Tom chuckled.

“Still not your favorite thing, eh?”

I realized I was wrinkling my nose. I looked at him apologetically.

“It was really good until I got a mouthful…”

Tom shrugged.

“Sometimes it’s best to ease into new things. And sometimes you leap. It’s all good.”

Tom has been watching me closely all evening.  Not that he doesn’t always, but there seems to be something particularly intense in his gaze tonight.  As if he’s working something out in that twisty brain of his.  Something to do with me.

“I want you to stay at mine while I’m away.”  

My fork clattered loudly onto my plate.  Do what now?  My heart twisted at yet another reminder that soon he would be taking off for the wilds of Croatia.  Does Croatia have wilds? I picked up my glass of Riesling and gulped from it, frantically searching for a reasonable response.  Why on earth would he want me to do that?  

“Are you high??” I blurted.  I’m afraid I might have screeched that a little.  I feel…unbalanced.  As if I had missed a step down and stumbled.  God knows what my expression showed, I certainly don’t have a clue what I’m feeling. Except bewildered and slightly hysterical, which I hope to god doesn’t show on my face.

Tom laughed as he gently took my wineglass away, setting it back on the white tablecloth.  He took my now free and shaking hand.

“Of course I’m not, love.”

My brain was spinning.  Tom simply waited patiently for my response, as he always does. At least he always gives me time to think instead of demanding an instant answer.  I suppose that if I were any kind of good sub I’d have already said yes.  Fortunately Tom isn’t interested in instant compliance for compliance sake.  He always wants a considered response.  As long as I’m thinking and not simply dithering. As I am now…  I grabbed a breath and kicked myself into gear.

“Well, why?”  There.  That’s a reasonable question, isn’t it?  Tom smiled a little smugly.  Oh, here we go.

“Firstly, it will considerably shorten your commute time since you’ll be working in the morgue.”

“Well, this is true.”  I nodded.  Is he simply making it easy on me? Or making sure that his kitchen remodel contractor is at work all the hours of the day? Then my attention snagged on the beginning of his sentence.

“Um, ‘firstly’?” I reached for my glass again.

“Darling, I want you there.  It will make my absence considerably easier to bear to know you’re there.”

“So…you just want a house sitter?”  My gut began to unclench a little. 'Til he wound it tight again.

“Not particularly. But I do want to silence that nasty little voice in the bottom of your brain that undermines your confidence. You can hardly doubt that I’m coming back if you’re actually living in my home, can you?” Tom tilted his head, watching my response with a knowing eyebrow.

My mouth fell open.  Fucking again!  Out came that long forefinger, pushing my jaw shut with a chuckle. I blew out a breath and leapt blindly.

“I… Yes, all right. If that’s what you want.”  I promised before I let myself think too much about what I was committing to. That was bound to bite me in the arse tomorrow…or sometime.  My heart clenched, I didn’t want to think about Tom being gone.

I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together, realizing suddenly that my back teeth were floating.  Obviously it’s entirely my own fault that my previous glass and a half of wine, the glass of water that I had happily guzzled down, the champers, and more glasses of wine to pair with each course, has caused me to begin to squirm uncomfortably in my seat with an increasingly desperate need for the loo.

"Ellie.”  Tom suddenly plucked my glass from my hand and set it down. Taking my hand, he leaned in and spoke firmly in my ear as my breath caught. “Take yourself off to the ladies room now…and bring me back your knickers.”

Oh, holy hell. Yeah, now I’m not thinking about Tom being gone.  Or living at his alone.  Out of the frying pan, and into the fire…  Way to change the subject, Thomas!

His hand squeezed mine briefly, and he stood, whisking my serviette from my lap and holding out a hand to help me to my feet, leaving me with no choice in the matter. In that moment, I remembered. My gaze darted around the room as I licked suddenly dry lips.

“Tom…” I couldn’t exactly follow his instructions.

“Go, Ellie.” He growled in my ear. Oh hell. Shit. Fuck. Damn.

I turned on my heel and managed to get to the loo without tripping over my feet, or melting into a puddle of self-conscious, embarrassed goo. I’m glad the designers of this Versailles had opted for thoroughly modern plumbing.

Throughout relieving myself and washing, I considered how to tell Tom that I couldn’t give him my knickers because I wasn’t actually wearing any. Be apologetic, or brazen it out? Oh, who am I kidding? I freshened my lipstick and patted my hair, straightening my skirt and smoothing out any wrinkles over my bum.  Taking a deep breath, I walked sedately back to the table. I wish I could say that the butterflies flapping around in my tum were as sedate.

Tom saw me coming about halfway across the room and stood, wiping his mouth and dropping his serviette on his seat. I held his intense gaze as he held my chair, my neck craned up behind me. He helped me scoot in, sat himself, and leaned to speak quietly into the hair behind my ear.

“Now. About those knickers, darling…”

“Sorry Tom,” I picked up my serviette and tucked it into my lap, trying to sound unconcerned. “I can’t very well give them to you if I’m not wearing any to start, can I?”  I delicately picked up my wine and had a sip, carefully looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

I heard his swift intake of breath as his body went still for a second.

“Ah.”  He set his own glass down. I giggled.  Mr. Loquacious. Possibly he doesn’t believe me? I took Tom’s hand and set it on my knee, right at the hem of the blue velvet skirt and cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge. His hand gripped my knee for a second before his fingertips took up a slow circular pattern over my knee. I swallowed hard.

Tom turned in his seat, his free hand coming to my cheek and turning my head to look into my eyes. Oh hell, he’s going to make a production out of this… When will I learn not to challenge this man?? Those long fingers slid slowly under my skirt and up my thigh, encountering the lace top of my stocking and tracing along the edge. Thank god for voluminous white table cloths…

The look in Tom’s eyes, half smirking amusement at me, half blazing lust as his smallest finger barely grazed my unclothed mound…just as the waiter arrived with our crème brûlée.  Utterly ignoring the man, I stared into Tom’s eyes, all my attention focused on that fingertip trailing up and down my seam, barely registering the waiter’s departure.

“Pudding, darling?” he breathed, looking down as he gently removed his fingers from between my thighs. I nodded. Honestly? The answer to any question from Tom at this minute is 'OH FUCK, YES!’. Fucker knows it, too.  And yet, I couldn’t even come up with a flicker of annoyance.

I can only thank heavens for the reprieve. I may not have grown up posh, but I do know that it is simply not done to have a whimpering climax in a public restaurant. I restrained myself. Barely.

Tom picked up his spoon and cracked the caramelized sugar skin over the vanilla custard with a loud snap.  He brought his free hand to my cheek to steady my face, and the other lifted the spoon to my lips. I stared into Tom’s eyes as I parted my lips, and the flavors burst onto my tongue, smooth creamy vanilla, the most delicate hint of orange, and the dark, heavy undertone of bitter caramelized sugar.

I licked a bit of the creamy vanilla from my lip as Tom drew the spoon away, and watched as he spooned a bit of the pudding into his own mouth. His eyes fluttered shut over a smile of appreciation, opened and leaned forward to kiss me.

Heaven. Crème brûlée and Tom… I parted my lips wider, giving Tom entry, his sweet flavored tongue caressing mine. Tom slowly pulled back.

“One more bite, darling girl? I need to get you home.” His eyes darkened. “And then you can explain to me how you forgot your knickers…” he growled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slowing down now, there will be some longer gaps between chapters. The bitch-muse is distracting me from Ellie with another story...  
> Though there will be more Ellie. I think her story might not ever really end.  
>  


	42. Chapter 42

Tom politely wished the driver a good night and then he was pushing his key into the door, pushing it open, and pulling me into the entry. Spinning me, he pushed me up against the inside of the door for a deep kiss as his hand groped to lock the door.

My hands flew to his hair, anchoring his lips to mine, tasting of caramel and Scotch, our tongues dancing with each other.

Tom drew me stumbling to the bedroom, more kisses beckoning.  I felt his hands at my zipper as he slowly slid it down to the small of my back.

“Oh, what is this lovely confection?”  Tom crooned as he discovered the basque I wore under the velvet. Low, off the shoulder sleeves slid down under his gentle hands as he stood behind me, freeing my arms. The velvet clung to my hips until he pushed it the rest of the way to slide softly around my feet. I heard the hitch in his breath as his fingers traced the undergarment to where my waist dipped in. I was bare below. He groaned.

“You naughty girl. No knickers all this time…”

“The dress –”  I started.  Tom’s fingers went to my mouth to hush my explanation.

“Shh, my darling. Let me enjoy this…”

My tongue crept out and tasted his fingers, flickering over the salty pads of them. He responded by pushing his forefinger in, softly exploring my mouth, caressing my tongue when it slid over his finger.

He pulled my face around with that finger in my mouth, pulling free of my suction and replacing it with his mouth, my neck stretched up and tilted back to meet his kiss.  
His hands began to trace the top edge of my strapless basque as he pulled back from the kiss enough to trace my lips with his tongue, and then he turned me in his arms, stepping back with his hands on my upper arms. He looked down my body and groaned, tracing a forefinger down the boning of the corset from under my breast, down my ribs and belly to end at my thighs.

“You tempt me love, to alter my plans for you tonight…” his head dipped and he dusted kisses across the tops of my breasts, his hands clasping my breasts through the fine, sheer fabric. He murmured into my cleavage appreciatively.

Oh, I had a naughty thought then. I felt my lips spread in a smirk.

I lifted my arms unbidden, and draped them high over his shoulders, not so accidentally lifting my breasts up from the top of my undergarment, so that my nipples peeked from the top edge of the cups. I could feel Tom’s breath shudder out of him as he lifted his head and looked down at my chest.

“Incredible.” His long fingers toyed with my peekaboo nipples. “Beautiful, glorious girl…”

I opened my mouth but he hushed me once again, his fingers jumping to my mouth.

“Quiet now, Ellie. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to entertain me. Or distract me. Quiet. Just feel. That’s all I want from you. You’ll give me that, won’t you my girl?”

It’s a damn good thing that Tom had demanded my silence, because I couldn’t possibly have pushed a single word out of my throat in that moment. I nodded mutely.

“Beautiful girl…” he whispered into the skin below my ear, his lips brushing the tender skin of my neck. It’s a little odd not to feel his stubble scratching at my skin, the feeling of his smooth shaven chin is so completely different. It will certainly be different to wake up in the morning without a massive case of beard burn…

“Oh Ellie, you are a vixen…” He moaned as his hands closed around my breasts. I swallowed hard, my throat clicking dryly.

Releasing my breasts, one of Tom’s hands slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, which he used to pull me to his mouth and hold me as he drove into my mouth; tongue and lips and teeth became my universe. Then he was breaking the kiss and nudging a bottle of water between my lips.

“Drink.” His other hand ran over my hair as I swallowed thirstily.

“Lovely.” He kissed my cheek as he lifted the bottle from me and set it back on the nightstand.

“Now then.” He sounded slightly ominous, in the best way. I felt my breath shorten as I looked up into his electric blue eyes.

“Take the corset off, Ellie.” he directed.

My hands moved automatically to the hooks down the center of my body. I started at the top. As I eased the third hook open my breasts had fallen back into the cups of the basque.

Tom spread his knees farther apart where he sat on the edge of his bed, and reached for me.

“Come here, Ellie. Beautiful girl, let me touch you…”

I stepped closer to him and his hands drew me by my waist to stand between his thighs. He leaned forward and left a kiss on the top of my right breast. By the fifth hook, my breasts had pushed the sides of the basque apart, still cradling me, creating a pretty spectacular cleavage.

Tom breathed out hard and his hands came to cup the outside of each breast as he insinuated his tongue between them, tasting me, ravaging and sucking at my tender inner skin. My own breath started to get ragged.

“More,” he demanded, sitting back and nodding at the remaining hooks.

As my ribs and waist were released from the basque, my skin revealed curving pink stripes where the corset boning had pressed into my skin for the last several hours.  
Tom’s breath caught as his fingers stretched out to delicately trace over the marks on my skin.

My hands had reached the last two hooks when Tom hands covered mine and guided my hands in opening each hook, letting the undergarment at last fall free of my body.  I took a deep breath, enjoying the way my ribs expanded, free of their constriction.

Tom leaned back, his eyes roving over me, stood there in nothing but my stockings and heels. Oh, and the pink corset marks on my skin.

“I want to tie you tonight, love.”

I nodded, my heart and breathing speeding up in anticipation.  Oh yes, please…  Tom slid to his knees, pulled my shoes off and rolled down my stockings as I balanced myself with a hand on his strong shoulder, feeling the muscles play under my fingers.

Dropping several pillows behind me he laid me back on the bed, semi-reclining as I watched him move purposefully around me. He made sure I could sit high enough to watch as he wrapped me, kissing my forehead when he was happy with my pose. He always liked to be watched, and I love to watch him as he works, his concentration and intensity all focused on, well, me. He’s beautiful and graceful and oh, so very careful of me.

He sat on the bed, next to my hip, still in his trousers and white shirt, sleeves pushed up his forearms, sliding warm fingers down to my ankle.

Wrapping a hand around my ankle, he gently kissed the arch of my foot and set it down on the bed. He repeated the process on my other foot, taking his time caressing and rubbing each foot.

He started with the slender green silk cord, creating a bodice trailing a series of knots in a spiral around my ribs, down my body, and down one leg. It almost looks like a vine had coiled itself around me from my foot to my waist.

Tom’s attention was absolutely on me, carefully twisting and tying, murmuring to me, asking how it felt, asking me to shift or lift as he tied, his fingers constantly checking the tightness of the cord, or slipping over my toes to make sure they were not getting cold.

With every loop around me his ropes cradled me securely, my tensions and concerns draining away. Safe. I felt so safe…

Tom worked up from the bodice, wrapping around and between my breasts, over my shoulders and down both arms to my wrists. Next he wrapped the bare leg in the same fashion as the other, in that spiraling vine.

He brought the soles of my feet together, bending my knees outward and lashing my ankles together, then reached for my wrists, securing them at each knee. The ropes held me in a semi-sitting position as I relaxed within them.

I felt almost as if I could drift into sleep from here, my eyelids heavy and respirations deep. Tom sat and surveyed me, his fingers trailing over my bindings, murmuring his appreciation for me, telling me how beautiful I was like this.

Tom tucked an errant strand of hair to curl about my ear. I opened my mouth to ask, but he laid a long finger over my mouth.

“Shh, Ellie. I’m not finished.”

With another deep kiss Tom reached for a silk scarf of all shades of pink, with a knot tied in the center. He twisted the tails of the scarf into a thin rope. Taking the knot into his fingers, he held it up, brushing my mouth gently.

This was new. Tom had never gagged me before. Tom waited patiently for me to consent, watching me carefully. All right. I nodded at him.

I opened my mouth to accept the knot. If he wanted this, so did I. It’s no different really, than being in his ropes. My body was bound and my mouth would be bound as well. Tom gently slipped the knot behind my teeth and kissed me lovingly before tying the tails of the scarf at the back of my head.

I worked the foreign thing around, my tongue exploring it, finding the most comfortable way to accept it. Tom watched as I settled it in my mouth. There was a definite mischievous twinkle in his eyes and lurking around his lips. He leaned forward and spoke into my ear.

“Now suck on it, darling.” he ordered, and sat back up to watch me. My brow furrowed in puzzlement.

I gave a tentative suck on the wet knot of silk and my eyes flew wide. Peppermint! Tom had cleverly tied a peppermint sweetie into the scarf, hence the knot. The aromatic sweetness invaded my mouth, my sinuses, wrapping my whole head in the comforting cool flavor. My eyes drifted closed as I enjoyed the cool sensation of the peppermint coiling through my breathing..

“That’s right, darling girl. Enjoy. Now, keep your eyes closed…”

I almost blinked my eyes open in automatic response, wondering if he was going to blindfold me as well. I breathed a deep peppermint flavored breath and let myself relax and wait. I felt the bed move as Tom stood up and walked away. I wasn’t worried. I knew that Tom would never leave me alone while I was trussed up like the Christmas goose.

Instead, I listened. Which really was the only thing I could do, bound and gagged as I was. I heard him moving about. Was he dragging something across the carpet? After a moment I heard the distinct sound of his belt buckle unfastening, and the rustling of clothing. I realized he was undressing. And rats! I couldn’t watch one of my favorite things; Tom taking his clothes off. I sucked on the peppermint knot for comfort. I tried hard not to pout.

I felt the bed dip and Tom shifted me to sit up a bit so he could slide himself behind me. I felt his naked legs go to either side of my hips and he propped my widespread knees against his thighs as he settled and pulled me to lie back against his bare chest comfortingly.

Tom’s hands began to wander over my body, stroking and caressing, his low voice in my ear.

“Isn’t this nice? It feels good, doesn’t it? You can completely relax in my ropes darling. There’s nothing you need to do, nowhere you need to be…you’re tied up tight and you cannot possibly do the wrong thing…everything that happens is my responsibility, not yours… you can let go of everything and let me take over… I will keep you safe, always. With your mouth bound there is nothing you have to say, you can’t say anything, so you don’t have to worry yourself about saying the wrong thing…or the right thing for that matter…for right now you are relieved of all your burdens and responsibilities… there is nothing, and no one, except you and I…”

I listened to his almost hypnotic voice, relaxing completely against him, letting his body and his ropes support me and hold me securely.

“All right, love?”

I turned my head to press my cheek against his chest and nodded. His fingers tipped my head up and back so that he could kiss me sweetly. Tom’s hands continued to stroke over me as he kissed my neck and shoulder, and we found a place of utter peace, just being with each other as we were. Eventually Tom began to speak.

“Ellie, I’m going to talk, darling, and you are going to listen… There is nothing you have to say or do but listen. You don’t have to think of responses. Just listen, that’s all.” I nodded.

“Open your eyes, Ellie.”

I was so relaxed and floating it actually took a moment for me to understand his instruction and to figure out how to operate my eyelids. Once I finally opened them, I had to blink a few times. Even in the dim candlelight, (when did he light candles?) my eyes had been closed so long that everything seemed too bright and out of focus. I blinked a few more times and turned my face up to Tom’s, just to see his beautiful face once again. He smiled sweetly down at me.

“Look.”

He pointed with his chin toward the foot of the bed. I turned my gaze and was surprised to find his freestanding dressing mirror positioned at the foot of the bed to reflect our bodies. My eyes widened at the sight.

Tom was wrapped around me from behind as I reclined against his chest, sitting on the bed in the cradle of his thighs, his long legs bracketing mine. My breasts were thrust up by his ropes, my knees were spread, opening my sex wide and vulnerable to his gaze. There is nothing of mine that is not on view. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to turn away in embarrassment. Tom tsked, caught my chin and gently forced it forward.

“No, Ellie. Look. Look how beautiful you are. See yourself through my eyes…” Tom murmured into my ear. I suckled on the peppermint knot for courage and slowly opened my eyes. I automatically found all the flaws of my body, so prominently displayed, and shuddered.

 

“Look at what I see Ellie.” His fingers danced over my hair, pulling a curl free.

“Look at these lovely golden curls that form a halo around your head and bounce with the movement and energy that almost crackles out of you…”

His finger lightly traced an eyebrow.

“Look at the elegant arch of your eyebrows… I can nearly divine your thoughts by the way your eyebrows tilt, the way they show your emotions…”

My eyebrows looked skeptical to me. Tom wrinkled his nose and smiled.

“None of that now! Remember, all you can do is listen.”

Tom’s finger followed the arch of my eye socket and he continued.

“Look at these beautiful silver eyes… so expressive… so flashing with light and humor and intelligence, that dark gray ring around them, setting the silver off…”

“Look at this sweet nose…” He bopped it playfully and I wrinkled it at him. He chuckled and continued.

“Fine and straight and just the littlest bit retroussè,” his fingers continued to trace lightly over each feature, “just right between these lovely cheekbones… and your mouth… there has never been a more beauteous mouth, lips so pink and plump and kissable…intriguing and beguiling.”  His thumb traced each lip, slipping into my mouth.

“Your mouth is so hot…” I moved my tongue over his thumb in a light caress and felt his breath catch.

“Your tongue, so nimble and loving… I could sup on your words and never go hungry…” He pulled his thumb free and his fingertips traced down my neck to the notch in my collarbone.

“Your neck is so delicious, I know that if I kiss this spot here,” he laid a fingertip under my ear, “that you will moan and lift your jaw to offer me more… and I know that if I nibble a bit right here, you will giggle…”

I must admit, he does have my neck mapped out exceedingly well. His finger traced all the way around my face and under my chin.

“I love how round and sweet your face is, the way your cheeks plump when you smile. Your shoulders, so lovely… round and velvet soft on the surface, so strong underneath, fit for carrying whatever you need to carry. And your arms, strong and supple, that hold me so gently…Your hands… oh, your beautiful hands, Ellie. The little nicks and scars of working, competent hands, your fingers capable of both strength and delicacy… And look!”  He lifted my fingers. “No more bitten-to-the-quick nails,…so pretty and whole. I’m so proud of you for that. I know it was hard, but you did it for me, and I remember that every time I see them…”  

A kiss brushed on my temple as a warm feeling of pride washed over me. I had. It was a simple thing, and a difficult thing, and I'd done it for Tom because he'd wanted me to do it.

Tom traced the cords of his bindings over my arms and shoulders.

“So much strength contained inside this beautiful skin, wrapped tight in my ropes…” Tom spent several minutes kissing my neck and shoulders, his fingers running over the ropes around my ribs before continuing.

“Your feet, these pretty toes, that elegant high arch, and tender instep just made for my kisses…delicate ankles and such shapely calves. The only thing wrong with your legs is how frequently they are hidden from my gaze under your jeans…”

“I could sing hosannas to your thighs, how willingly they clasp me… your hips, how sweetly they cradle me…” Tom drew his hands up my thighs and around my hips, his hands encompassing the width of them, and then moved on to my belly. He had me so far under his spell that I barely even flinched as his hands cupped the roundness of my belly.

“And this soft, lush, flesh is so beautiful… it cushions and softens my own hard angularity, welcoming me. These little striations here are testimony to your strength and recovery, and I can only appreciate them.” His fingertips traced the silvery stretchmarks on my belly.

Tom hands moved to my breasts, fingertips tracing over them, circling and circling.

“Now these… I think breasts are a very fine thing in general, whether a mouthful or handful, but yours…” his hands cupped and molded my breasts.  "Yours are Goldilocks breasts, just right! Lush and soft and heavy in my hands, perfect, sweet, pink and pale and pretty, and so very responsive to my touch…“ Tom fingertips swirled around my areola, and softly touched the aching hard tips of my nipples. He took hold of my straining nipples in a firm grasp and pulled… I had just enough movement to arch into the pull, needy noises rising in my throat. Just as I was beginning to think that he might cross that thin line between pleasure and too much, he let go, his fingers stroking and soothing, gentling me. His hands slid down my ribs, gliding down my belly to my mound.

"And this… This pretty, sweet pussy, so delicate, so many shades of pink…”

I couldn’t help a small noise of distress that came from my throat as I closed my eyes and turned my head, ashamed.  With Tom’s help I had managed to forget the ugly scars for whole stretches of time, but now he called attention to them.

“No darling, open your eyes.” he ordered firmly. “You are so beautiful here.” His hand covered my mound and squeezed, a tender manual hug.

“Even your scars, love. The scars on your back from your surgery, they are the price you have paid for your life, your ability to walk and work. And the scars here, Ellie… In a way they brought you to me, and I can’t see them without being grateful. They’re not ugly to me, Ellie. Nothing is ugly about you, my Ellie.” He rested his forehead against my hair as tears poured from my eyes.

“I want you to understand that I think, I know, you are beautiful here,” his palm flexed on me, “whatever you decide you want to do, or not do about your scars, you are beautiful.”

“Look, Ellie. See as I do. I am so blessed that you allow me to see, to touch, to taste you here. Look how delicate…” his finger traced along my inner labia. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, my darling… So sweet and softly blooming for me…” his finger moved lower and circled my entrance, picking up the shine of the moisture that wept from me at his touch, at the mere sound of his voice. His fingers slid inside me and I gasped as my interior clamped down on his digit, sending a spasm of need through my body.

“That’s right, my love. I adore how you enfold me, caress me… and this pretty gem…” his fingers slid out and trailed up to my clit, circling around and around.

“All those delightful nerve endings bundled in one spot, waiting for me to give you pleasure… oh my God, when you come around me it is so devastatingly, indescribably delicious…so utterly cataclysmic…”  His arm tightened around me and his face buried itself in my neck, biting and sucking at that spot…

Tom’s fingers circled my clit in a never-ceasing pattern, over and over, until I felt all my being centered there, pulling and drawing up into a hard point of ecstatic sensation. 

Tom admonishing me to keep my eyes open, to watch him make me come. I desperately tried to follow his direction, but it was so overwhelming, the feeling of his fingers, the sound of his voice in my ear urging me on, demanding that I come for him, the sound of my harsh panting and the aromatic peppermint filling my head… all burst from my control, my body arching with a muffled cry against his hand, my soul bursting forth into freefall with a scream. I rode Tom’s hand through my release as he gentled me, fingers inside giving me something to cling to, his thumb gently brushing my clit to draw out my sensation.

Eventually, I became aware of his mouth on my neck, his lips moving in a litany of beauty and encouragement and my eyes fluttered open as I floated back to earth, back to his arms. I turned my head and rubbed my cheek against his chest in gratitude, thankful for… everything. Thankful for him. He says he is blessed, but I am the one who is so utterly, completely blessed by his presence in my life. If he freed my mouth at this moment, I might say, ‘I love you more’.

I finally fell back into my body, my breath no longer gasping, heart no longer hammering, mind no longer submerged in physical sensation. I twisted my head up to look at Tom, to find his gaze staring back at me, a glimmer of tears washing out the blue, a tremulous smile on his lips.

Tom’s hand flexed, cupping my mound still, his other hand on my breast, burying his face in my neck, breathing deep. He kissed me there, his lips soft and gentle, and slowly sat up reaching  for the safety shears.

Tom lifted me and slid me to the side, sliding out from behind me, sitting next to my hip and beginning to cut me free.

“All right, darling?” he murmured, slipping the peppermint knot from my mouth. I nodded.

“Mmhmm, s'wonderful…” I felt dazed, soft and relaxed and fucking wonderful. I’m sure my half lidded smile looked loopy. I felt a little drunken, but better.

“Damn Tom, you are so much better for me than Scotch!” I giggled, my head a little light. Tom chuckled, his hands busy snipping and unwinding cord from around my body.

“I’m glad we agree, darling.” he purred. Tom carefully unbound me, his hands gentle and soothing, fingertips caressing the pink marks on my skin when his ropes fell away. He took pains to ease my limbs flat, circling my joints and stretching my muscles.

I used to think Tom was doing this to me.  Not that I didn’t enjoy it!  But now I have realised, he’s doing it for me. He doesn’t tie me up to restrict me, but to free me. He’s protecting me from everything, holding me tightly so that I can’t turn away.  Being in his bonds is the most extraordinary almost meditative space. He forces me to accept the things I’ve tried to ignore, without pain or fear, or recrimination.

“Thank you, Tom.” I whispered.

His hand stopped tugging at a bit of rope and he looked up at me with a faint smile.

“No, darling. Thank you.” he said softly. I shook my head and prodded his hip with my toe.

“Nope. I mean it, Tom. You can just accept my thanks gracefully this time, okay? Because I’m using my words now, and I need you to listen, right..?”

“Thank you, Tom.”

Tom rested his hands on my thighs and dropped his head, taking a deep breath and nodding. He looked up at me and lifted a hand to cup my cheek.

“You’re welcome, my Ellie.”

 


	43. Chapter 43

I threw myself into my work in the weeks before Tom was scheduled to leave, keeping myself so busy that I couldn’t think about what I would do without him.

We’d arranged an afternoon for him to come round to my workshop and discuss eighteenth century woodworking for his role in his next film…after I’d done some swotting up on south seas woods and old time woodworking tools, which, if you exclude electricity, are pretty much the same as the hand tools I use today. Tom had proved to be an attentive student.

I was horribly anxious about starting his kitchen remodel, itching to start and dreading it at the same time. It had to be perfect. I’ve been determined to finish these last two jobs before I start Tom’s morgue, so I’ve been working like a lunatic. I need to be able to devote all my time to his job when he leaves…

Just when I needed everything to fall into place, it was all going pear-shaped! My tile supplier had just messaged me they were backlogged, and I hadn’t the faintest idea whether I’d get my order in time for the Jensen job… Ok, I guess that doesn’t actually rise to the level of ‘pear-shaped’ (it’s kind of par for the course, actually) but right now, any little thing is likely to trigger my anxiety. And when I get anxious, I get bitchy.

I was looking through Tom’s file rather frantically, for the cabinet specs that I’d ordered, to double -ok, triple- check the dimensions when Tom’s hand reached over my shoulder to pick up a drawing that had slithered to the edge of the table.

“Darling, what would you think if we-“ he started before I jerked the paper out of his hand and interrupted with some exasperation. This is exactly why I’m waiting for him to leave before I start working on the morgue!  Having him hanging over my shoulder kibitzing would quickly drive me barmy with bells on!

“Dammit, Tom! Don’t mess with my stuff,” I snapped, slapping my drawing back onto the stack.

Startled, Tom’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment at my rude, abrupt response. His narrowed eyes looked me over. I could feel his eyes cataloguing my grim lips and rigid spine. I was practically vibrating with annoyance at him.  Oh god. Wincing, I dropped my head in real contrition.

“Sorry.”

Tom’s long forefinger tipped my chin up and regarded me thoughtfully.

“Alright, darling. I’ll leave it, if you will. Come away.” He kissed me soundly, grasped my arms and steered me bodily away from the table where I had his file spread out. I went because I knew that I was getting way too OCD about being ready to begin his remodel.

He drew me by hand into the lounge, settled me on the sofa and handed me my current book, the latest by Theresa Butler. She’s a marvelous writer and normally keeps me enthralled to the point that I might not notice if the house caught fire. But today…

I found myself unable to concentrate, glancing up repeatedly, often to find him glancing back at me. I went back to staring at the page, the words blurring, staring into the middle distance and my mind wandering.

I don’t understand why this trip to Croatia is any different from all his previous absences. But it is.  Tom has been away several times, even weeks at a time, on a shoot. Why do I feel so fucking anxious, this time? Is it just the remodel? I’m so confused.

It’s all making me crazy bitchy. I’m gonna give myself internal whiplash with all this shit. My temper is hair-thin. I’m not in control of my head. Not at all. I swallowed, biting my lip hard, using the pain of it to drive it all out of my head.

Finally, I let myself to just do what I wanted so very much to do. Fuck it.

Gently setting my book down on the coffee table, I slid off the sofa to my knees at Tom’s feet, and laid my head on his thigh. The moment my cheek came to rest on the soft denim of his old blue jeans covering the hard thigh muscle under me, I felt my shoulders drop and tension begin to start to drain out of me. I sighed. I finally felt like I could take a deep breath. So I did, closing my eyes and concentrating on the feel of him against my cheek, and the comforting scent of him wrapping around me like a warm hug.

Oh yes, I needed this. I could feel the crease that lived between my eyebrows relax for the first time in days as I looked up at him. I saw the small lines and creases fanning from his eyes and mouth relax, as well.

Tom’s warm hand dropped down on my head, stroking my hair over and over hypnotically, soothing me. After a bit, he shifted under my cheek and sat back, patting his thigh.

“Come up here, little girl.” He waggled his eyebrows in a playfully lascivious way. I snickered a little at his dirty old man routine. Maybe next he’ll offer me candy…

I stood to slide onto his lap. Once he helped me settle in his lap to his satisfaction, he sobered.

His arms snugged around me, holding me close, and his nose buried in my neck, breathing softly.

“What do you need, beautiful girl?” He murmured, his lips tickling against my skin. My heart leapt and started to pound as a vision muscled into my head of Tom tying me and taking me, driving all my irritating thoughts and worries out of my head. I shuddered.

Tom’s nose nudged against the underside of my jaw, pushing my head up for better access to my neck. The tip of his tongue trailed tantalizingly up my throat to that spot under my ear that makes my entire body clench deliciously.

When I hadn’t answered after a minute his teeth closed in a reproving nip at the skin of my neck.  He lifted his head and watched me, waiting patiently until my eyes met his.

“Tell me, darling girl. What do you want?”

Words fluttered and battered at the inside of my lips, too many words to be coherent. I struggled to formulate sentences to express myself, feeling increasingly frantic. I need… I want… Please…

Tom set his hand on my chest, just below my collarbones. I knew he could feel my heart banging against his hand.

“Breathe, Ellie,” he murmured as his eyes held mine. “That’s it, darling girl…breathe again…good.”

I could feel some of the screaming tension in my shoulders begin to uncoil as I listened to his soothing, low voice and followed his directions.  I stared back into ocean blue eyes and let them lead me to firm ground.

I shivered once as my incipient anxiety attack retreated to something more bearable, and the last of the fear of imminent collapse drained out of me.  Tom kissed me when the last of the rigidity left my spine and my body softened.

He pulled away and held my cheek, watching me with a slight smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright?”

I nodded and shuddered a breath out.

“Now, then. Tell me, Ellie. Use your words for me.” Tom demanded gently.

I swallowed hard and whispered. “W-will you bind me? I need… I feel like I’m going to, to fly apart!”

“Of course I will, Ellie. You only ever have to ask.” He waited a moment to let that sink in. “What else do you need, darling girl?”

“I just need to not think for awhile. I need…you.”” I looked up at him pleadingly. Tom smiled, looking pleased, and hugged me.

“Go to the bedroom and get undressed,” he said, tucking a curl behind my ear gently, “Light some candles. I’ll be in directly.” His eyes lingered on mine as I stood and turned.

I nearly scampered upstairs, excitement shivering in my belly, and stripped quickly, dropping my clothes where they lay and leaving them strewn over the carpet. I lit several of the candles scattered around the room with shaking hands, and stood by the bed jittering, wondering if I’d lit enough candles. Six is enough, right? I strained my ears for the sound of his tread on the stairs. If I’d had more time, I would have gathered and lit every candle in the house for him.

Tom prowled into the room. Stopping next to me, his hands rose to grip my upper arms firmly, his blue gaze boring into my eyes, nailing me in place.  His hands slid down my arms to my cold hands for a comforting squeeze before sliding slowly back to my shoulders. I swear, I felt each and every hair on my arms prickle at his touch as he looked me over. Seeming to come to a decision, he spoke.

“I’m going to bind you, darling, and all you’re going to know is me.” he stated calmly. “You’ll take everything…”

I felt my shoulders collapse in relief. Oh yes, please. I need this.  I could see that he needed this too. He took my mouth, took it and used it, a hand cupping my cheek and his thumb under my chin, lifting my face to his.

His hand tightened on my shoulder as he held me still to brush his warm, inviting lips over mine in a teasing kiss, then one hand slid into the back of my hair and gripped, the other hand gliding to my lower back and pressing my hips against him. I leaned forward eagerly into his embrace.

His feet nudged mine apart even as his tongue licked my lower lip, soothing the damage I had done to it in my foolish attempt to push away my anxieties. I wanted to run my hands up his body, trace his pectoral muscles, draw a fingernail across his collarbones, but he had my arms pinned to my body. He cradled me, holding me for his kiss. As if I could even think about escape! Dear God, he makes me wet…

“Stay here,” Tom murmured into my hair line, his lips brushing my forehead. He turned away, moving to the dresser that he keeps his bondage gear in. I shivered in place, not daring to move lest he change his mind.

I watched the muscles of his back move under his white dress shirt, his shoulder blades pressing against the fabric with his movements like wings, as he sorted through a drawer, looking for whatever he wants to tie me with. Oh, please…

Every bit of my attention on him, tense and yet not, I waited patiently, breathing calmly. Surely a first for me. As easy as asking, Tom was going to give me what I need. Simple surcease…

Tom turned, and I caught my first glimpse of his chosen gear. I was surprised to find that he had a relatively thick hemp rope in his hands, and a pair of shears that looked more like secateurs. Tom always used slim silk covered cording when he bound me. And yet, here he is with actual rope.

I gulped a little, suddenly nervous about this deviation from his usual play, but longing for it too much to question him.

He laid his things on the bed, turned and gently drew me to sit on the edge. His hand slid to the back of my head, fisting my hair and tugging my head back for a teasing kiss before guiding me to sit. He reached for his rope, measuring out several lengths, his eyes flicking to my body, mapping distances and lengths as his hands worked.

I shivered again to have his concentration so focused on me. Prepared, he held his hand out for mine, and I set it in his warm palm. He lifted it to his mouth, and laid a reverent kiss on the inside of my wrist. The tender skin on the inside of my arm pebbled up in gooseflesh. I want…

A loop of the rough, tanned rope appeared around my wrist and he pushed my arm under my breasts, leading the rope around my body.

I breathed deeply as he leaned over me and pulled my wrist to wrap my arm under my breast and around my ribs, securing it there with another loop around my body.

He leaned around me, his shirt brushing my nose, and I leaned forward, pushing my face into his chest and breathing deep of his comforting scent.

I closed my eyes briefly as everything that is Tom wrapped securely around me. Bringing the rope around to my front, he held his hand out for my other wrist. I watched his long fingers curl around my wrist and wrapped the rope around that one too, drawing that arm around my torso and running the rope around my back. The rough rope makes it’s presence felt, chafing and dragging against my skin, not the soft silk of his other ropes.

He sat back on his heels between my knees and narrowed his gaze at what he’d done, considering. He reached out and pushed my first arm higher under my breasts, nudging it even higher to create a shelf of sorts for my breasts. I watched a slight smile ghost across his lips as he tightened the rope to secure my arms so that they cradled my breasts.

I blinked, looking down. He had bound me so that my breasts were presented. showcased, even. I can tell that’s no accident by how pleased he looks with himself. He pulled the rope a bit tighter, sliding a finger under to test it, nodding to himself. Lifting the rope around my neck in a sort of halter, he tied off a complicated Celtic heart knot between my breasts, fingers delicate and sure.

He sat back to survey his work. Suddenly his eyes flicked up to hold mine and he leaned around me to pick up something and bring it around where I could see it.  
He’d made another peppermint gag for me. I had loved the first one. It felt comforting as a pacifier, without the indignity of being an actual pacifier, and not incidentally binding my mouth so that I couldn’t, didn’t have to figure out whether to scold him for treating me like a little girl. That experience had left me silent and helpless, and so utterly content.

Tom knelt patiently before me, holding the gag to my lips, waiting for me to accept it..

“Thank you, Tom, for…for being so patient with me.” I murmured, turning my head to rub my cheek against his hand, grateful for his thought and care.

“Thank you for trusting me to ask for what you need, Ellie.” His eyes softened.

I opened my mouth and Tom carefully pushed the knot between my teeth, his fingers lingering to run across my lips. Tying the aqua blue scarf behind my head, he carefully pulled a few wayward strands of hair loose from the tie.

Tom watched me tongue the knot around the peppermint sweetie. I breathed in a deep cooling breath, my eyes lifting to his and waiting for his next move.

He took a kiss and returned his attention to his knotwork.

Shortly I found myself with my arms bound in a tight hug around myself, cradling and pushing up my breasts, and a corset of rope around my body.

Tom looked smugly pleased for a minute, and then his eyes darkened as his hands began to move over his ropes and my skin.

I arched into his touch, the move pressing my breasts out and hardening my already hard nipples. Tom suddenly grinned at me, and that was all the warning I had before he pushed me helplessly onto my back, my arms bound securely around my ribs. I squeaked, the noise muffled by the scarf, and a rush of cool peppermint sweetened air sucked into my throat, making my head spin. And then he began to speak.

“Beautiful girl. You’ve no idea how gorgeous you are like this, my ropes twining all around you, hugging you tightly.” His fingers dexterously traced over his ropes, checking to see they didn’t pinch or restrict my circulation. “Maybe next time I’ll work out how to tie you so that your hands are cupping your breasts…”

One hand went into my hair, holding me for his kiss, pinning my head to the bed.

“You can always ask for this, my darling girl… Gorgeous girl, sweet girl…” he murmured against my lips. I bit my lip through the scarf, his words washing over me.

Tom’s hand slowly trailed up and down my torso with a gentle soothing rhythm, tracing over rope and skin. Murmuring to me the whole time, quietly. Words of beauty and lust. 

The rope chafed and occasionally scraped, as I’m sure it was meant to do. I’ll be feeling the shape of his ropes for a day or two after this, for sure. And it doesn’t worry me in the least.

Tom began to speak quietly. “I don’t want you fretting yourself, darling girl, over my kitchen. I know you will do your usual creative and stellar job for me. I expect nothing less.” He tipped my chin up to look into my eyes. “And nothing more.” Tom’s lips lifted in a wry smile. He knows that’s a faint hope.

“Besides, I’m fully aware that anything you do will be a vast improvement over the morgue as it stands. Darling, you can’t fail to make it better, whatever you do! I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you consented to implement your beautiful gift for me.” He nuzzled his nose into my neck, sending delicious shivers down my body as he nipped a small bit of skin.

“I know you’ve been worried about me leaving, conflicted about getting me gone so that you can start. I feel it too, darling girl. I’m eager to start the new film, I always love a new project. But I’ll miss you so much! I wish I could put you in my pocket and take you with.”

God, he really does get me. Who else would unerringly put his long finger right on the contradiction in my feelings and know that confusion was the source of my crazy? I was constantly on the verge of snapping and snarling, though I thought I’d done a pretty good job of not inflicting my irritation on Tom. Until tonight. Guess not.

Tom dropped a soft kiss on my cheek and returned his attention to gently kneading and tormenting my breasts.

I floated in a peaceful mental cloud, all my turmoil and trouble at bay. Tom understood, he knew. He always paid enough attention to suss out the reasons for my agitation. And he was always kind enough to help me find my way out of my worries.

“While I’m away, Ellie,” he continued gently, “I want you to take the opportunity to review your limits list. Decide if you want to add anything that would be a hard limit. Look over your soft limits, too. Anything that you would like to explore? Pick out a few things to have a go…” he purred suggestively, at the last.

Tom’s hand covered a breast, fingers feathering along the top, catching my nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and rolling. He spent quite a long time playing with and tormenting my nipples, but I had not the least objection.

His attention to my breasts only heightened the scratchy harshness of his rope. Dear god, how does he understand that this, this is what I need from him..? I thought I’d begin to melt into the bed soon, in sheer gratitude for the release from my troubles. However temporarily.

Tom stopped and admired his handiwork, eyeing the rock hard pebbles of my nipples and the rosy, chafed skin of my breasts between ropes and arms, his lips quirking up with a glint of appreciation in his eyes.

“As a little incentive…” he lifted up and spidered his way across my body, clambering over me to reach into the bedside table drawer on his side of the bed.

He straddled my hips with a distinctly challenging grin and a 10 cm oblong jewelry box of red velvet in his hand. My breath caught.

What the hell? I barely had time to think before Tom opened the case and tilted it so I could see. Oh God…

A gorgeous pair of rose gold colored tweezer-type nipple clamps, with a slim matching chain strung between them nestled on black velvet.

Delight surged in my chest briefly, before falling again, leaving a hollow feeling. I’d been told that nipple clamps didn’t suit my type of breasts, they made my breasts look old and droopy.

Huh. I scowled at the thought. Why should I allow that arsehole to decide whether or not I let Tom put bloody clamps on me? And if Tom doesn’t like the look of them, Tom, at least, would never tell me that my tits were ugly. He’s not the arsehole, as he has demonstrated so, so many times.

Even without worrying myself about how they will look though, I can’t help but cringe the littlest bit. They had been very intense, but I remember loving the biting sensation from them the one time I had nipple clamps on. The prospect was still a little frightening, regardless.

Tom pulled the pretty nipple clamps from their velvet nest and held them aloft, the chain draped over one forefinger. I stared at them as the clamps twisted and glittered in the candlelight, as if they would bite. The delightful thing was, that I knew they would, and I wanted it. I breathed a little faster.

If it was possible, my breasts seemed to grow heavier and tighter in anticipation. Holy hell, I wanted this.

My eyes must have been as wide as they could get with my pleading. Tom’s smile widened, and he settled his weight firmly onto my thighs, dangling those gorgeous, vicious, little bits of jewelry over my face tantalizingly.

“You marked nipple clamps as a soft limit as I recall. I think it’s above time to explore that a bit, don’t you beautiful girl? Nod if you agree.” He said softly, as he stared into my eyes. His other hand shifted the ropes around my breasts, deliberately making me aware of them.

I jerked my chin down in a nod. Oh yes…

Tom’s smile went brilliant before he bent and sucked a kiss into the skin of my neck. Shuffling himself a bit lower and licking over my nipple, he tugged at the turgid tip with his teeth. He sat up, his fingers grasping and pulling my nipple away, elongating it, and applying the tweezer tip with his other hand.

A small pinch immediately dissipated and I was left staring at Tom, disappointed that the sensation was not as intense as I remembered. Tom’s lips tilted in a devilish grin as he registered my disenchantment.

“Watch,” Tom directed. I tipped my chin down to watch as Tom’s long fingers delicately slid the clasp of the tweezers along their length, increasing the pressure on my nipple slowly, his eyes going back and forth between my face and the clamp on my nipple, watching my expression carefully. Oh. My. God. That was…

My mind blitzed out for a moment, every tiny fragment of my attention centered on the exquisite pressure and burn in my nipple. More, I thought, reduced to one word thinking. Tom obliged, tightening the thing by tiny increments until the pain had moved into pleasure, and back into pain.

I saw his pleased smile just as he backed the slide clasp away a bit…back into pleasure.

“I think that’s about right.” I vaguely heard Tom say, barely registering his honeyed voice over the throbbing sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

Tom lifted his hands and watched me, watched my reaction with a small smile before reaching for the other nipple. Oh God.

He carefully went through the whole process again and then sat back, watching me squirm and begin to pant with the intense sensations rushing through me from my tits to my groin. I whimpered from the delicious force of it all. The throbbing pressure in my breasts and the urgent empty clenching of my pussy made me desperate to writhe, to move, to release some of this incredible tension that was building.

If I could formulate words at all they would have been Fuck. Me. Now. But I couldn’t. All I could do was whimper my need, wrapped in my own arms, yearning for him to touch me. A couple of long fingers slid down my belly to my mound, tracing up and down my lips, tormenting me with promise.

I squeezed my eyes shut to concentrate on the glide of his fingertips, trying to sort out all these crazy sensations. Not soon enough, his fingers moved to part me, circling around my entrance, dipping in just barely to tease me all of my mind. One word was left in my head to be repeated over and over: Tom. That word was eventually joined by ‘Please’.

My hips tried to push up, to pull his fingers deeper into me, but I was frustrated by Tom’s weight on my thighs, preventing any real movement. I felt the energy that needed to release coiling back and doubling my tension as I panted.

My desperation eventually found voice in a wail around the scarf tugged into my mouth, the most pleading, needy sound…needing him to fill me.

“I do love seeing you like this, beautiful girl, all out of control and all desperate…” Tom murmured with satisfaction. He shifted, lifting off my thighs and stood, staring down at me, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling the tails loose from his waistband and shrugging out of it. Belt and flies next, his long fingers made swift work of them as my eyes followed, and then he was sliding his trousers off and kicking them away. He stood there, cock proudly erect, as he looked at me, helpless in his ropes.

He reached for my hips, pulling me to the edge of the bed, my legs dangling over the side, insinuating between them.  Tom loomed over me, his weight held up by a straight arm beside my head.

Reaching down, he lifted my leg, wrapping it around his back, nudging me with his cock head, sliding in my moisture, teasing and finding his place, then thrusting into me with a satisfied grunt.

Stars exploded behind my eyes as he hilted himself and hissed out a breath, holding himself still over me with his eyes screwed up, obviously battling himself.

When his eyes blinked open he stared down into mine as he slowly drew his cock out, and then thrust home again hard. I moaned at feeling him fill me so full.

He did that over and over, driving my breath from me each time. Then he reached up and grasped the slim chain connecting the nipple clamps, tugging on them. Electricity seared through my breasts and arrowed to my sex, clenching around him and pulling another desperate cry from me.

“You’ll come for me now, Ellie. It’s mine, give it to me, beautiful girl…” he growled.

And I did, exploding into light and stars, my back arched hard, chin tipped back and a muffled scream coming from my throat. I barely registered Tom’s grunt as I squeezed and throbbed around his cock, but the next I was aware was to find him pounding into me on the contractions of my orgasm, both legs wrapped around his hips, and holding him tight.

I certainly felt Tom’s body go rigid as he spilled, pulsing into me, his hips grinding into mine and a drop of sweat falling from his chin into the hollow of my throat before he collapsed over me.

Every muscle I had went utterly limp under him, my heart thundering and his breath panting into my ear for an eternity, until he slowly pulled out of me and rolled to my side with a heart-wrenching groan.

We lay panting and recovering for a long minute before Tom raised himself on an elbow.

“All right, love,” he whispered. I swallowed against a dry throat, the cool peppermint once again filling my chest. I managed a nod.

Tom smiled, obviously pleased, and pushed himself up with a groan to reach for the shears. He cut me out of his rough rope, pulling the cut pieces away and dropping them on the floor beside the bed. My arms slithered from around me and fell limply onto the bed at my sides.

I took my first free, unrestricted breath and groaned. It felt so good to draw a deep breath and feel my ribs expand. Tom gently unwound my arms, massaging and straightening them, making sure I had full range of motion, and nothing hurt.

He lifted my head and pulled the scarf tie to free me from the peppermint gag, pulling the knot gently from between my teeth, replacing it with his lips and tongue, hot against my mint cooled mouth.

Tom pulled me close and rolled us up the bed onto his pillows, my head coming to rest on his chest, his heart beating steadily under my ear, and his arms clasped securely around me, one hand tracing over the obvious pink indents of his ropes around my ribs. Tom nearly purring his contentment.

Contentment was a bloody fine word for what I felt as well… We drifted for some time when he cleared this throat quietly, hand stroking down my back.

“I can see you’re chewing over something big, and I know it’s troubling you, Ellie. I can see you trying to push it all away, just to stay in control. But darling girl, thinking is a good thing. How else are you to solve the problem if you won’t think about it?”

Oh god, I hate when he’s logical. And right.

Tom’s hand trailed idly up my back and down again in a slow, soothing rhythm. I just lay there, cheek on his chest and arm draped over his torso. His voice rumbling in my ear, I soaked up the warmth and comfort of his hand. I knew vaguely that I was still surfacing from that lovely, soft state that being tied by Tom induces.

Otherwise, I’d be freaking out at the direction of his words, confirming that I’d been so out of control that Tom took notice. Of course he noticed. He’s a noticing man. He tugged a curl to be sure I was paying attention.

Tom hummed thoughtfully under my ear as he idly toyed with my hair, twining a curl around his finger and back. Oh no. Tom is thinking.

“I’ve found journaling to be useful…” he mused. “getting all those pesky thoughts and feelings onto paper and making them hold still while I got a good look at them… Have you ever had a journal, Ellie?”

I snorted and shook my head.

“Ryan has been bugging me about starting a journal, but I don’t fancy it.”

“Hmmm…” Tom trailed off. Uh oh.

“I’ll get you a notebook to write in tomorrow,” he said with finality. “I want you to write about your troubles, whatever they are… Every day, mind!” The hand that had been toying with my hair gripped and tugged my head up to look at me with a sternly raised eyebrow.

“Hark now, it’s not a work journal, darling! You can, of course, write about work related troubles. But this is to be your space to explore whatever worries you, darling. You generally handle your work related problems competently and calmly. Even if you do grumble quite a lot.”  

With a fond smile, Tom dropped a small kiss on the tip of my nose as I stared at him, processing this…this instruction.

“Tooommm,” I whined, “I don’t have time to write in a bloody journal! I-“ His finger covered my mouth in an imperious gesture and I shut it abruptly.

“Ellieee, you’ll just have to make time, then! You’ll make time to write every day. And you’ll work, and you’ll eat and sleep properly, you’ll review your limits, and you’ll generally take very good care of my girl for me while I’m away. Won’t you?”

He tugged my hair again, narrowing his eyes threateningly at me.

“And Ellie? No more trying to bite your lip off. I like it right where it is.”

 


End file.
